#i lied when i said five sentences | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmania · 2 months ago

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a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

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rizsu · 1 year ago

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barely delusional megumi, itadori, nanami.

-> tokyo revengers & haikyuu version

megumi fushiguro.

life as megumi is simple. he is simple. his routine never over-complicates itself nor will he allow it to do so. on top of that, he will always be sure to attend every plan he agreed upon — well, all except for one. you see, the prior plan before the plan with itadori and nobara had slipped his mind. it's only when he checked his phone for the time is when he remembered.

the trio planned for an evening-to-night hangout session. first, dinner. dinner is important. second, an arcade session. third, amusement park. a well-thought plan that can finally make its way out of being just a "plan." kind of.

"hey, are we still on for the arcade later?" itadori asks, licking the drips of his popsicle on his forearm.

megumi opens his mouth only to close it back. he takes a popsicle from the bag, busying himself with the snack, he replies, "can't, i promised my girlfriend i'll sleep over tonight."

silence. it's a sudden moment of silence. the kind of silence before something goes south.

one, two, three...

"YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!?"

"YOU PROMISED YOUR WHO?!"

both itadori and nobara voice their astonishment in unison. it's not every day you hear megumi speak about anything bordering romance. megumi, on the other hand, doesn't answer. his full attention is on his popsicle. indeed, he does feel the two pairs of eyes on him but will he respond to their shock? yes, actually.

"i said what i said," he shrugs, not understanding why it's so shocking.

nobara's jaw hangs loose. her popsicle already puddled on the ground. slowly, she regains her mind and forms a sentence, "you — you're not lying, right? is this megumi? FUSHIGURO megumi?"

itadori nods behind her, showing his support for her actions. megumi rolls his eyes, clearly he doesn't like the way they think he's a loser.

"yeah, yeah. when do i ever lie?"

"oh, you're right," defeated, nobara agrees. there's not a single memory in her mind where megumi lied.

itadori yuuji.

he's bent over gasping for his life. a few seconds ago, itadori ran three floors down the school just for a question. it's an important question and they — gojo and utahime — will answer.

"guys, what do you do when you want to buy someone a gift but that someone is your girlfriend but you're not sure if she'll like it but—"

gojo drops his self-made paper plane, turns his head to the boy and begins, "pause right there yuuji. repeat that again."

slightly confused, itadori repeats himself from the beginning, "what do you do when you—"

yet again, gojo cuts him off, "NOT that part. the one after."

confused, he repeats again, "but that someone is your girlfriend but—"

gojo claps his hands together, sitting up straight and pointing a finger directly at itadori. "THERE — THAT PART."

utahime rubs her forehead, trying to calm down an incoming headache at the elder's childish behaviour. she sighs loudly, shooting a glare at gojo before turning to itadori with a small smile. "what gift do you have in mind?"

itadori, not remembering the gifts he had in mind, starts counting on his fingers. he knows he thought of roughly five gifts, but the question is what were the five gifts.

"uh, i think i had a five-hundred-dollar gift card in mind? don't remember the price but it's for makeup, skincare, and all that stuff!!" he replies, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

"that's a bit expensive. are you sure you'd want to buy it? if it comes from you i'm sure she'll love it either way," utahime attempts to comfort him. she's a tad bit concerned at the price but hey, love is priceless.

"mhm! it's our anniversary soon, too," itadori nods, feeling his nerves calm a little.

gojo, however, needs to put his input or he'll go crazy. slapping both palms on his thigh, he changes the tone of his voice to a serious one, "son, let me introduce you on the top ten ways to make a woman happy with money."

"gojo, no. don't."

nanami kento.

a true businessman has now ended his working hours. at 7:30 p.m on the dot, he's now in his office preparing himself for his activities at 8:00 p.m. unknown to him, a little pesky fly slides himself into his office. obnoxiously chewing on some lays chips, gojo questions nanami's new attire, "you look oddly handsome, nanami. you got a date?"

refusing to meet eye-to-eye with gojo, he responds to him, "i do, actually. with my woman." turning around, he still avoids eye contact with gojo. rolling his sleeves up to his elbow, nanami walks to his desk, searching for his wristwatch.

once content with his attire, nanami finally looks at gojo. his visual makes a vein pop out on nanami's forehead. crumbs all over his fingers, hair scattered everywhere, mismatching indoor shoes — just irritating.

"if you excuse me, gojo, i have somewhere to be. exit yourself," gesturing to the door, nanami expects gojo to leave and so he does. just one step away from being out of nanami's office, gojo turns around. something's off.

"yeah yeah, go on with your woman — wait," he begins, eyebrows raised in suspicion. "you have a woman? like, seriously?"

paying no heed to the fly, nanami makes his way to phone you a call. once you answered, he brings the phone to his ear, "i'll be there to pick you up in ten-minutes, okay? ... yeah, i love you too."

"NO WAY," louder than sirens, gojo gasps at the confession and return of love. his once-crumbled fingers now cover his mouth.

nanami, already annoyed by his presence, puts his finger on his lip, motioning to gojo that he needs to shut up.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader

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steddiehyperfixation · 11 months ago

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don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap.

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks.

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was.

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?”

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.”

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.”

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles.

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?”

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.”

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it.

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.”

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?”

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently.

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.”

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing.

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination.

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night:

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?”

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.”

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.”

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it.

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other?

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments.

Steve asks, “What?”

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't.

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did.

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says.

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?”

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-”

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne.

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this.

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again.

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds.

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?”

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look.

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off.

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.”

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue.

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases.

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again.

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching.

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony.

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this.

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since.

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him.

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages.

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-”

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking.

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject.

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired.

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.”

Whatever that means.

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve.

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand.

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep.

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats:

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast.

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if-

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.”

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed.

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense.

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.”

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls.

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused.

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope.

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.”

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#lots going on here. medical inaccuracies and self-indulgent dreams lmao #our boys will finally get their shit together in the next part i promise and i am just as excited for that as the rest of y'all #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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babygorewhore · 10 months ago

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Hunt You Down

After lying to Rafe about the last time you fucked, you confess that there’s something you desperately want to try. And Rafe decides not only to fuck you but to punish you for lying to him. Requested by dolly! @xxhellfirebunnyxx I hope this makes you feel better baby!!!!

Okay this is dark guys! Please mind these warnings! CNC! Hunting! Knife play! Skin carving! Use of daddy! Spanking! Unprotected sex! Degrading and small amount of praise! Book reference in fic is Haunting Adeline by H.D Carlton!

A little over 1k!

“I don’t understand. You didn’t cum and you faked it??” Rafe was furious. He couldn’t believe the audacity you had to lie.

You had good reason but you were terrified of telling him as you hesitantly moved aside him but he grabbed your elbow. “Rafe, please, don’t be so angry. I’m just so tired-“

“No, no, no, don’t you lie to me again. I know exactly when you are. Why did you fake it?”

He wasn’t going to let it go and you were an idiot for thinking so. Shrugging you folded your arms. “I just didn’t like what you did. That’s all. It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious-What? Are you joking?” Rafe scoffed and stepped away. Turning his back. “Why wouldn’t you say anything then?”

That’s when you knew you were in trouble. You wanted to massage his tense shoulders but you also knew he’d argue with god for the last word. So you decided to feed the information slowly. “I was. Ahem. I was reading this book a few days ago. And there was something I wanted to try…”

He sighed and half turned. “A book?” Then realization came over him as he faced you again. “Wait. You mean one of those porn books you like to read, huh?”

You flushed and nodded. “Yeah. I read a really good one and I was thinking maybe-“ He started smiling. Wickedly and you started to doubt yourself.

“Finish the sentence.” He prodded and started stepping forward. “Finish. The. Sentence. Is that what you want? Or,” Rafe started to shrink himself and gave you big eyes. “Do you want me to beg? Is that what you read about?”

“No. Well in the book, he told her something. He said ‘Run. If I catch you, I fuck you.’ And I thought you could do that. Chase me around. Force me into what you want. Don’t let me get too far. Maybe even use one of your knives.” By the look on his face you knew you sealed your fate when he cupped your jaw.

“Is that all? You wanna add anything else? Other than you want me to fuck you while you pretend you don’t want me to? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner? You don’t have to hide behind those books. When you have me. I mean,” He slid his hand down to your chest and felt your heart. “Why would he be better at chasing you in a house of mirrors then fucking you?”

You covered your mouth with your hand. “You read it?!”

Rafe nodded with a glint in his eyes. “I did. I figured something was up. But I’m not gonna do anything right now. Not after you lied.” He gave you a swift hard kiss on the lips.

“So when-“

“And why would I ruin our fun, baby girl?”

It had been two weeks since that conversation and you almost forgot it until you had a sinking feeling when you got home and the lights were out and wouldn’t come back on. You flicked the switch a few times but it was useless. “Rafe? Baby?” You called out without an answer.

He had just texted you five minutes ago asking when you were coming home. “Is the power out?” You said again.

No answer.

You searched the penthouse for him without luck and you started to panic. Did something happen? You pulled out your phone and started calling him. What you didn’t expect was to hear it right behind you and you startled against his chest. He was wearing black and his face was a mask of stone but his eyes were on fire with hunger.

“You have five minutes to get away from me. If you don’t, I will fuck you however I want. And how long I want. I don’t care if you scream or beg.” Your core completely tightened as he leaned down to your ear.

“Run.” He repeated.

You did.

You sprinted out of the house and outside. In the back, he had a decent amount of jungle with thick trees that you darted around in your shoes. You weren’t truly trying as hard as you could. This was exactly what you wanted. You wanted this thrill. Your panties were getting soaked the more you moved. You kept looking over your shoulder as you looked for him.

But when you turned your head again, you saw him yards ahead of you.

He must have cheated. Which was what you hoped.

He moved towards you, his long legs easily catching up as you tried to sprint. His hand locked in your hair, whirling you around as he slammed you against a tree. Rafe had a knife and held it against your neck. The cool blade could nick if you even moved slightly. He leaned in, expertly managing to scare and arouse you.

“I told you what would happen if I caught you.” He ripped off your shirt, slicing through the material with his knife and placing the tip of the metal against your naked skin.

“You’re such a filthy slut. You want this so badly, don’t you? I bet your pussy is dripping at the thought of being so scared and fucked out.” He shoved his hands down your pants. Feeling the soaked patch in the center.

“So pathetic…but you’re still a good girl? You gonna get on all fours, huh? Or I’ll hurt you. Do you understand?”

You frantically nodded as you got on all fours, your ass received a hard smack as you heard him unbuckle his pants. Your body shook violently as you felt the blade press against your spine. You felt a sharp sting as you felt him move it around. It hurt so good that you moaned as you realized he was carving his initials. “There. You’re fucking marked. Did you read about that too, princess?”

Rafe pulled off your bottoms as his spit covered fingers massaged your clit as you shuddered and you weren’t able to speak. He inserted two big fingers inside your cunt, pumping rapidly and causing you to pant.

“Daddy-I can’t-please fuck me-“

“What was that?” He growled. “Say it again. Say how badly you want it, you pathetic little slut.”

“Please, fuck me, daddy.” You whimpered as he reached deeper that it almost hurt.

“Since you’re being a good girl after I had to hurt you…” Rafes cock lined your pussy as he slammed inside without warning or easing into it.

You gasped in pain that morphed into blinding pleasure as your eyes drifted shut. His hand yanked your hair, leashing you so he could move you in any direction and his thumb went past your lips. “Suck on it, baby. I know your mouth needs something to play with.”

Rafe’s movements were sloppy and wild as he pounded into you, his dick was clenched by your pussy as he slid in and out, his precum leaking and spraying your inner thighs. His concentration increased as his hold on you loosened as he bottomed out. You followed his pace and gripped the grass floor and felt your peak reaching.

“Cum for me, bunny. Be a good girl and cum.” He huffed and gave your hair a harsh pull.

You obeyed and whined his name as you bent forward, allowing him to spill inside seconds later, coating your insides as he regained his strength.

He steadied and pulled out, flipping you on your back and slamming your legs shut. “I don’t want any of my cum spilling out, I want you filled up like the whore you are.”

You blinked with doe eyes as he leaned down and captured your mouth into a fierce open mouth kiss. His lips ran all over your jaw, neck and chest as he started whispering another threat.

“Round two little girl.”

Tagging. @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx @drewstarkeyslut @imyourdaninow @take-everything-you-can @stqrgirl3 @lesservillain if I missed any please let me know I’m very tired lmao

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron smut #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron one shot #dark!rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #dark!rafe

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queensunshinee · 6 months ago

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Time Of Our Lives || Part 3

Part 3:

Liana hadn't seen Art for three days. Ever since they started studying at Stanford, not a day had gone by without his presence being felt. Even if just for five minutes, he would pop up suddenly and disappear just as quickly. Liana wouldn’t say it out loud, but his presence had started to grow on her. She was never the most popular kid or the most popular teen. She always had two or three friends. And Art, it's not very clear who he is in her life, but he's a figure that's there. Present. Breathing the air she breathes. Knowing the people she knows. Laughing at her words, annoying her with his. She hadn't seen him for three days and it's bothering her. So today, she decided to go to the open practice for the first time, and Art wasn't there either.

"Are you looking for Art?" a female voice sounded behind her, and she turned around. Facing her was Tashi. Liana searched for the words, something that was always complicated for her; finding words in front of people she didn’t know or felt threatened by. Right now, she needed to answer 'yes' or 'no', and all she could do was stare. "You're Liana, right? Patrick showed me a picture of you with the boys, and I’ve seen you a few times with Art. Are you looking for him?" she explained and asked again. "Oh, yeah..." Liana managed to find her voice, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. Unwanted color flooding in. "Did you see him?" she squeaked, trying to steady herself in front of the girl before her. "He just texted that he wasn't coming to practice today. Nice to finally meet you. Maybe we can have lunch sometime." She smiled briefly and moved towards the court, leaving Liana in the stands. A bit more worried than she had been before.

She knocked on his door three times. Then another three. And then six more. After the fifth round, he opened it for her. It was the first time she had been in his room, and he couldn't hide his surprise. "Li?" Art's voice sounded weaker than usual. "You didn't come to the open practice," she said coolly, looking at him and furrowing her brows. He didn't look good. In fact, he looked like shit. His hair looked greasy, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were sunken with dark circles around them. Art Donaldson looked awful. "What happened to you?" She gave his arm a light push, which made him lose his balance and almost fall, but he understood her intention and moved aside. He ran a hand through his hair, a tic she knew he had; when Art was nervous, frustrated, or confused, his hand automatically went to the back of his neck, a few seconds of that until he gets a grip and acts as if nothing had thrown him off balance. "You were at the open practice?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Stuck on that piece of information. Almost wanting to request that the sentence be engraved on his tombstone when the time came. 'Here lies Art Donaldson, whose open practice Liana Levi attended.' His parents would surely be thrilled. "For four and a half minutes, then I realized you weren't there." She said as she walked to the window and opened it. "Your room stinks," she stated, turning her gaze back to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" she added. Sure, they weren't best friends, but they were supposed to be each other's emergency contact. They were supposedly here together. He made sure to remind her of that once a day. And now, in a real emergency, he wasn't talking to her. "Because it doesn't matter, I already feel better," he tried to speak in a more upbeat tone, one he thought characterized him but failed miserably at it. Her hand was on his forehead, causing him to immediately lean into it and close his eyes. "You're burning up, damn it, Art." She moved her hand from his forehead to his cheek, realizing that the situation might be worse than she thought and beginning to think of a plan. "Okay, I need you to get in the shower, alright?" she spoke softly. He looked at her, his mouth half-open. "Where's your spare key?" she asked, without looking at him too much, opening the closet intending to find clean sheets there. Art watched her bustle around his room, and despite feeling awful, worse than he had felt probably in the last two years, he found himself smiling. Liana was worried about him. She would make sure he was okay. "Art, do you hear me? I need you to get in the shower, I'm going to get a few things. Can you do that for me? I'll be back in half an hour." she said assertively, and he handed her the key as she requested. "Please be done with your shower when I get back." She ran her hand over his forehead once more, almost causing him to surrender to her touch and close his eyes again, but just as she had entered like a storm, she left like one.

Liana went down to the cafeteria after making a phone order. She returned to her room with the soup and grabbed the bag she had prepared for Art. When she entered his room, the shower water was still running, so she decided to use the time to change his sheets and put the lemon, ginger, and honey in his fridge. He came out in a towel and looked at her, leaning against the doorframe. He felt blessed. His head hurt, he had sneezed forty times that day, and all his muscles ached, yet he felt blessed. "You didn't have to, Li..." he mumbled, and she turned to him. "Good, you're out. Get dressed and eat the soup. If it's cold, let me know and I'll go heat it up." There was a microwave on each floor, so that was an option. Art went back to the bathroom and put on long pants, unable to bring himself to wear a shirt. "I also brought you some pills I had. If you need anything else, I can go get it, this is just what I had in my room," Liana babbled, realizing she was behaving in an uncharacteristic way. It dawned on her too late that Art probably thought she was crazy. More than that, that he didn't want her presence in his room right now. She had invaded his personal space and decided on her own that she was there to stay, when he hadn't really invited her. He had done everything to avoid seeing her in the past few days. He sat down to eat the soup at his desk, unable to take his eyes off her for fear she would disappear and he would be alone again, wallowing in his own misery. "Is it hot?" she asked, not knowing what else to say. "It's great. Thanks, Li," he smiled sincerely, and she reached her hand towards his forehead again. "Can I?" she made sure to ask this time, hesitating and seeing him nod. Her hand moved from his forehead to his cheek automatically, and he sighed for a second. "You're still warm." Her brow furrowed again. "When you finish, take this pill, okay? It's supposed to help with the fever..." she added, starting to gather her things. "Are you leaving?" he asked. Art's voice sounded more desperate than he intended. He wanted to sound indifferent, as if he didn't mind being alone. As if the last three days hadn't been an isolated nightmare filled with self-pity. "You can stay a bit longer. If you want," he added quickly, saying the sentence fast as if it would make it vanish from the air. "Okay," Liana said and nodded. "We can watch an episode of 'Gilmore Girls'," she smiled. Every summer, she forced Art and Patrick to watch a few episodes of 'Gilmore Girls'. If she had to be stuck with them, at least some of the time they would do what she loved. She was sure they liked the show because sometimes they would make comments about it. Art shrugged while finishing the soup, acting as if he didn't care if she stayed or not. In reality, he wanted to smile victoriously because he had won today. No one could argue that Art was the winner of this day. "You can take a shirt from my closet if you want," he told her, and she nodded. If they were going to watch an episode of the show, they would watch it on his laptop, in his bed. She couldn't stay dressed in jeans, and besides, they had seen each other in much less clothing over the years. So Liana put on one of his oversized boxers and a Stanford shirt that was at least two sizes too big for both of them. Art looked at her and nodded for a moment, lying down in bed and waiting for the moment she would say it was too much for her. That despite all her good intentions, she and Art weren't going to share a bed just so he could feel better. They hadn't done that since they were six, probably because she wouldn't even sit next to him on the same couch. "We're in Logan's season, are you excited?" she asked with exaggerated enthusiasm and sat down next to him. He automatically pulled her closer. "Aren't you afraid of getting sick?" he felt like the biggest jerk in the world for asking only after he had pulled her that close. "My immune system has never let me down, Donaldson, and it’s not going to let me down today." She started the episode while getting comfortable next to him.

As the episode progressed, her hand found its way to his hair, playing with one of his blonde curls that, just like Art Donaldson himself, had grown on her. "That feels nice…" his voice was barely audible as he was close to falling asleep, his head half on the pillow and half on her shoulder while his arm was wrapped around her. Just before Art fell asleep, focused on Liana's breathing and her fingers in his hair, instead of the show, he realized he didn't need much to feel good.

heyyy there. How are we feeling about this chapter? I hope the slow burn isn't too slow for you...any thoughts? I know that Patrick wasn't here at all, but he'll have his comeback, don't worry. Also, should I do a tag list? It feels a little too much since I really don't know if there are readers who want to come back. I really want to hear from you so feel free to talk to me (PLEASE). By the way- I still feel like my English is ruining the story, but again, I'm trying. Thanks for reading. It means a lot ❤️

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fic #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan

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rr311 · 7 months ago

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❥# — 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 slightly dirty, manipulation?, toxic relationship, stalking, choking, degradation?, cheating

☆ — 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 after breaking up with dabi, he doesn’t take It too lightly, and decides to claim what’s his again.

❣︎ — 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 finally started watch mha again. and l forgot how FINE most of these characters are 😩 but I lowkey got lazy at the end so I apologize:( but next story is going to be about shigaraki!.

this is for all my dabi fan girls 🫡.

𝑫𝑨𝑩𝑰 (𝑻𝑶𝑼𝒀𝑨 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑰) 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕

dabi was extremely manipulative. during and after the relationship. during, It had there rough moments, always arguing, jealousy, cussing each other out etc etc bit despite those bad moments you guys had happy ones too. always cuddling each other, kissing, in general being love birds that made the league gag in disgust. though the relationship was a bit toxic..it did take you some time to build up the courage to break up with him. why? well because you loved him, so much that it hurt. you would assume he was like this because of his trauma but at the same not. you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you don’t miss him because fuck you do,

the day when you got the courage to break up the relationship dabi thought you would come running back but after 6 months going onto 7..he was slowly getting Irritated. can’t lie, you felt relieved but also lonely not going home everyday to see his pretty face already there waiting for you. but during the whole time he stalked you throughout the six months, seen you've gotten a new job as a secretary at a office building with a nice paying rate, you live In a nice neighborhood now, and even got yourself a new play thing. he hated It. hated seeing you with another man that’s not him. the day you ran into him and started fucking around was the day you signed an unbreakable contract.

when your shift had ended for the day you said bye to all your coworkers making your way home. It wasn't as busy considering It's a friday night and everyone was home resting, walking freely making your way down the street. you hummed a small tune, five minutes going by making It to your door step, unlocking the door entering your home. you turned around to lock your door, dropping your bag next to where your shoes were going to go to the kitchen before you felt a warm hand on the back of your neck with a body pressing behind you, "you're still unaware around your surroundings huh?." that voice..your hands clenched together with wide eyes, no. It couldn't?. "you miss me doll?." he chuckled hearing a small gasp, you were defenseless. against him you were a dove In a hawks grip. you swallowed that giant lump In your throat, fists clenching together "what do you want." he could hear the snarl In your voice only chuckling, flipping you around harshly pinning you against the door. facing him. those blue teal eyes..haven't seen those since you've last seen him.

still attractive as ever.

he smirked seeing you eye him, trying so hard to look at him with hate but knowing you? you were easy to see through, you missed him but trying so hard to deny It. "you want me to be honest or lie to you?." you furrowed your eyebrows glaring at him. "like you've never lied to me before.." you spat, dabi raised a brow shrugging, "but you've always fell for It dove. you used to listen to everything I said to you, lie or not." your nails digged Into your palm remembering those memories, the deep memories you wanna keep locked away, "what're you getting at dabi." he hummed. "I've been watching you dove. got a new job at an office building as a secretary, moved Into a nice place..even got yourself a little boyfriend huh?." this bastard still hasn't changed a bit. you tsked. "and what If I did? that's non of your busin —!.” you choked on a gasp getting cut off from your sentence feeling his hand on your throat squeezing It but not hard enough to close your air pipe, just enough to shut you up. your eyes widened. those bright teal eyes were now darkened and serious. a look he gave you when you broke up with him. "just to get this clear doll, the day you slept around with me was the day you signed an unbreakable contract." — he leaned closer towards your ear leaving shivers to run up your spine, "you're mine and no matter how much you try to deny it baby It’s all a lie."

you wanted to argue back but..

seeing that look on your face proved him right. he chuckled moving his hand to your cheek placing his thumb on the bottom of your lip slightly opening It leaning In close, “wanna know something sweetheart?.” you grumbled. but he was going to say It anyways, “those nights where you would finger your little hole, I watched It all.” seeing your reaction he hummed, “every night I can practically hear your needy moans..legs spread open with your fingers deep In your pussy. wishing, It was me instead. Isn’t that right?.” whenever you got hot and bothered thinking too much Into the past this is the result of that, you admit. you did wish It was him Instead, of your useless fingers. the guy— ur boyfriend that fucks you everytime couldn’t provide your needs like dabi could. and you guessed you could see he realized that seeing his face. dabi laughed with a scoff, “bastard can’t even fuck you right can he?.” you groaned feeling his other hand slide between your thighs, dabi chuckled leaning in, “I’ll treat you right, bet you’re so pent up huh?.” without saying much more he placed his lips against yours. you hated how much effect he has on you.. the moment he kissed you, you kissed him back missing the way he used to touch you like this, dabi smirked Into the kiss, picking you up by your thighs whimpering In his mouth. "see?." he teased pulling back from your mouth placing you on the bed going to take off his shirt, you snarled bucking your hips up with a small moan. “shut the fuck up and jus’ fuck me already you bastard..” dabi threw his shirt off to the side going to unbuckle his pants looking at you with a lustful gaze tilting his head to the side, “trust me baby.”

“I am.”

#black reader #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #{ 🖋️} writings #smut #mha dabi #dabi todoroki #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #short story #dabi x reader #dabi x black!reader #dabi smut #dabi x you #anime x poc!reader #poc reader

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mollyrolls · 2 months ago

Text

hey cupid! ☆ iwaizumi h. x reader

14. reverie

warnings: finale. language, miscommunication, one religious joke (kinda).

an: its finally here! thank you all for the love on hey cupid, truly means more than you could ever know. i hope this lives up to the hype, sorry it took so long lmao.

cont. the italicized part is from the nsfw chapter i have yet to upload, so sorry if thats confusing. basically, she thinks iwa just wanted to fuck and then dip, so she hurts her own feelings over it. he didnt, they talk abt it, you'll read the rest. ok. thanks again <3

prev. / mlist.

They’re not saying anything. When she knocked on the door five minutes ago, she looked as happy as ever to see him. Now that they’re sitting a million miles apart in Iwaizumi’s living room, she seems less than pleased.

He knew that this wouldn’t go exactly like he planned, but he didn’t think it would be like this. Instead of their predictable back and forth, she won’t even look at him.

It makes him feel sick.

Iwaizumi anxiously adjusts in his chair, drawing her attention to him. They hold eye contact for only a moment, before she looks away again, embarrassed.

He had worked himself up to say something, but meeting her eyes rendered him fully useless.

The same tense silence fills the room once more, suffocating them. Finally, she sighs dejectedly.

“Look, I’m sorry for the other night. I wish you would’ve told me you were so uncomfortable with sleeping with me, but it’s my fault for not checking. You don’t have to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. Her assumption being so off track makes him start to lag behind, as he racks his brain for what he’s done to make her think that.

When he doesn't say anything, still stuck in his own thoughts, she cradles her head in her hands. Seemingly willing the floor to swallow her whole.

“Are you going to say anything? Or just sit there and let me humiliate myself until I die?” Her question comes out muffled from behind her hands.

He gains enough consciousness to shut that down quickly. “You’re not humiliating yourself. Like I said, I don’t regret what we did.”

Hajime’s first words of the night do little to lighten her spirits. She seems perpetually weighed down, and has since her date with Osamu.

If Iwaizumi could reasonably kill him, he would.

She sounds unconvinced. “Yeah, ok.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Her hands fall from her face, choosing instead to stare at the wall distantly. “I don’t know. You aren’t really acting like you’re proud of what we did.”

The accusation doesn’t sit well with him. Sure, he hadn’t shouted from the mountaintops, but it’s like she’s forgetting what had happened after.

He lies down in just his boxers, her in just his shirt. The labored breathing coming from both of them isn’t enough to quiet the roaring in his ears. She rolls over to face him, eyes still puffy from the rollercoaster she put herself through. “Iwaizumi?” He just hums, unsure of how steady his voice would be. “Do you regret it?” He knows this is the last bit of her insecurities, the ones he feels responsible to tamper. So as anxious as it makes him to admit it, he does it for her. “…. No.” She doesn’t say anything. He takes it as acceptance enough. “Do you?” The pause is longer from her. But she sounds more sure. “No.” He lets himself be selfish, and wraps his arms around her, bringing her closer in. If his words aren’t enough, he’ll let his actions do the work. He tries to ignore the shakiness of her shoulders as they fall into a fitful sleep.

“Well, you aren’t either. I’ve at least come out and said it.”

She sours at that, remnants of the fight probably swimming back up to the surface. She bounces back faster than before, but he knows that’s still holding her back.

“I don’t think I regret it…” She starts, and Hajime starts to dread the ‘but’ that will follow. It’s terrifying how much power she holds over him with just a sentence.

“...I’m just scared of what’ll happen if I admit it.”

Hajime can see how scared she is. It’s something he’s never witnessed from her before; it doesn’t feel right. She’s supposed to be persistent and nagging him about something stupid, not second guessing herself. Especially not over someone like him.

As much as he hates seeing it, he knows how significant this is to her. He’s been there too, felt the anguish of silence on the other side.

So he matches her effort, voice hoarse from how quiet it comes out.

“I’m scared too.”

It’s so silent in Iwaizumi’s living room that he can hear her breathing, even and controlled. Like she’s willing the oxygen to go down.

“So what do we do?”

“I’m not really sure.” He feels like a teenage boy again, hyper aware of every movement he makes. “Do you want to do something?”

She grumbles. “I mean, yeah.”

Hajime’s heart squeezes tight in his chest when he hears it again. He thinks he could never get tired of her admitting it.

“It would be stupid for us to… feel like this and not ‘do something’,” She makes sure to exaggerate the air quotes, much to his annoyance. At least she’s not so anxious that she can’t be a pain in his ass some of the time.

“But, it would also be stupid to try and avoid the glaring problem between us.”

He agrees with a nod.

That seems to be the end of it, as neither of them make any move to continue the conversation.

They’ve never been good in silence. Even when they were out on their dates, it felt like they had the mutual understanding to fight, if only to pass the time. Hajime wonders briefly when all that changed.

He truly cannot place the time when he started thinking about her like this. Like how her happiness and her fire are the only thing he cares about when he’s around her, and even more so when he’s not.

Honestly, Hajime can’t even remember if he really hated her after their first date. Since he can’t place a time, if he feels this way now he must’ve felt like this then. The butting heads, the petty fights, that’s just who they are.

But sitting in the silence of this living room, he solemnly wonders if that’s all they’ll ever be. If they can’t get through one conversation to process their feelings, what hope do they have for a future together?

As if she can hear his thoughts, she lets out a shaky breath.

“If I ask you something, do you promise to answer me honestly?”

Her voice sounds wrong again, like it had that night. Too unsure of itself to belong to her.

“I’ll try.”

She readies herself before dropping the second most catastrophic bomb Iwaizumi could have ever imagined.

“Why do you fight with me so much?”

There are a million ways he could answer her question, none of which he wants to admit. That he thought that was just their relationship, so he never put much thought into it. That he truly doesn’t know, sometimes he just can’t help himself. That the way it makes his heart race is dangerous, and how he has no intention of stopping because of how excited it makes him.

He could try and answer her, give them a reason to pinpoint and work through so that they could do this, but that would be lying. Hajime could never lie to her.

So instead, he decides to take a leap of faith.

“Is it really a problem though?”

She looks at him puzzled, like he hadn’t listened to a word she said.

He tries again. He's finally getting his momentum, and he can’t afford to lose it now. “What I mean is, yeah we do fight a lot. But it’s never over really important stuff. It’s just bickering.”

She nods as he speaks, wheels turning in her mind. “I don’t know why we fight. It’s probably some deep rooted psychological shit that I don’t care about.” Hajime sends up a silent prayer that his next words won’t humiliate him to the ends of the Earth.

“But I care about you.”

She freezes, probably not expecting him to come right out and say it. He hadn’t expected it to fully admit it tonight, but now that it's out in the universe he has no desire to take it back. It feels too right.

“I don’t…” She tries to find the words, but Hajime stops her. She pulls a face at the intrusion, but lets him continue.

“If it bothers you, I’ll try to cut it out. But I like that we fight.”

She seems even more confused, but he feels excited. He’s finally saying the things that have haunted him since he met her, but only recently gave weight to. He realizes how long he’s been waiting to admit it.

“Sure, it’s always about you being right and being a genuine pain in my ass,” he starts, not fighting his grin anymore. She groans at the accusation, but doesn’t deny it. Hajime can see her lips starting to curl up, which sparks something deep in his chest.

“But you’re not a pushover. You’ll call me out on my bullshit, and not pull any punches. That’s what I want.”

His adrenaline is starting to wear off, but he'll be damned if he doesn't get it all out on the table now, so he pushes down the nerves. It’s not everything he wants to say, but he knows she’ll know.

“You’re who I want.”

The atmosphere in the room softens as the confession falls from his lips. Her face betrays nothing, and Hajime can see all the thoughts floating around in her head.

She smiled at his words. There’s no denying that. The sight made the whole conversation worth it, regardless of how badly he wanted to shit himself.

But the sight is short lived, before the conflict falls back over her face.

“I like it too…” she starts, releasing the lip pulled between her teeth to give him a small shit-eating grin. “It’s gratifying being able to rub it in your face how wrong you are all the time.”

He laughs at that, low and warm.

She looks like she wants to overthink again, but pushes it away. He’s thankful for that; any more overthinking and he’d start to panic again too.

Instead, she deflects. “I was thinking about it the other night.”

Her gaze starts to flick slowly across the room, looking at anything but him.

“You were thinking about me?”

He doesn’t mean it as a joke, but she takes it as one.

“Please shut up.” She looks over her shoulder at him with that easy grin before startling herself and turning back.

“What I mean is, I think I know why we fight. But I think if I tell you, you’d take it the wrong way.”

He tries not to be hurt at the accusation, but it’s unsuccessful. Which might be proving her point, but he wants to know anyway.

“You don’t know that unless you say it.”

His proposal is unsuccessful.

“Even still, I know it’d ruin the mood. I finally stopped feeling like I wanted to die in your presence, why would you want to waste it?.”

Her persistence makes his curiosity grow stronger, but it’s also with a twinge of unease. He’s not sure what she could be thinking about, but he doesn’t know when they’re gonna have another talk like this. He has to see it through.

When she finally agrees, it's barely above a whisper. So low he can barely make it out.

“I think I see the worst parts of myself in you.”

Suddenly, he wishes he didn’t hear her.

His ears start ringing again, thoughts running rampant. He leans back against the couch, crossing his arms in an attempt to get some distance.

He doesn’t mean to seem petulant, but he’s sure he does.

At his movement, she turns around and pins him in his place with her gaze.

“See what I mean?” She softly points a finger at him. “Took it the wrong way.”

Despite this, she moves closer into his space. He tries to walk away, feeling too scorned and hurt to have this conversation anymore. She follows after him quickly, calling out for him to stop.

“I know that because I felt that way too.”

It falls from her lips in a rush, stopping him in his tracks. He still can’t bring himself to face her.

"Wait. It was probably dumb for me to say this now, I’m sorry. I panicked.” She begs, voice wavering slightly. Hajime feels the lightest touch on his arm, beckoning him to turn back. “Please don’t be mad. I promise it makes sense, and I’m not some horrible person for saying this.”

He’s not strong enough to resist her.

He continues to keep his distance, but the two settle back on the couch. She begins to explain, looking as nervous as Hajime felt earlier.

“I was trying to think everything through, especially after my freak out when we slept together. I didn’t understand why it impacted me so much, so I started writing about it, until it hit me like a fucking freight train.”

She readies herself with another deep breath, not too different from his own. He wonders if this is the equivalent to her confession.

“I know our bickering is different now, at least it is for me, but at the beginning it was definitely real. Which is why I’ve been so scared to do something, because I don’t want it to go back to that.”

He only nods, letting her continue on.

“But I think what it was, was that it was easy to hate you because you were too much like me.”

She anxiously adjusts in her spot, drawing his attention to her. He stops after a moment, starting to realize what she means.

“I saw the things I don’t like about myself in someone else, and my insecurities lit up like crazy. I took things out on you because I couldn’t face them in myself.”

As she says it, memories and moments start flooding into his brain. The way he felt on their first date, overly protective of Bokuto and assuming he knew what’s best for him. When she went against his ideas, it felt like a personal attack, so he went in just as hard.

When he found out about her date and immediately felt sorry for himself. So the only thing he could think to do was make her feel bad too. Even if it was with good intentions.

“Which is why I knew you’d take it badly. Because I did too.” She finishes, watching his every move as he processes.

The wound from the delivery is still a little raw, but he understands what she means. In a weird way, probably lending evidence to her theory, it’s comforting knowing she had the same experience with this revelation as him.

It’s a little awkward, having everything laid out like that. He feels cut open, put on display for her to see. But in turn, she shared that same feeling with him. He sees that for what it is, and decides to leave it at that. There’s no need hashing out mutual insecurities, at least not now.

Instead, he simply turns to her with a private kind of smile. “I’ve totally earned the right to read what you wrote about me now.”

Her gaze softens when she processes what he says, relief visible in her body language.

So much so that she starts to laugh. It’s a crazed kind of laugh, like the one you might get after a near death experience.

It makes him laugh too.

“Why did I say that?” She says through broken gasps. “You’re never going to let me live that down.”

He can’t fight the stupid grin that covers his face. “No, I’m really not. It’s nice to know you thought about me that much though.”

Not only did they have a serious conversation, they made it through on good terms.

Hajime feels fucking invincible.

Her laughter subsides, and she settles back against the couch, facing him. “I’m just going to let you forget about it.”

He faces her too, taking in her features in this softened, less anxious light. “Never gonna happen. I’m going to remind you that you thought about me so much that you just had to write about me. Multiple times, it sounds like.”

“Ugh. I hate you.” She tries to shoot him a glare, but it doesn’t have nearly as much bite. He might even go as far to say that she’s smiling at him.

“I wonder how often my name appears in your diary. Oh, or your texts. Can I read your texts too? I have to know what you’re saying about me.”

“Please stop.”

He sees his opportunity, and she realizes her mistake.

“No, don’t do it-” “Last time I checked, you were the one begging me to not stop.”

She groans in despair. “Please let this torment end."

Riding his high, he braces himself against the back of the couch, putting his arm around her blatantly.

Despite her complaints, she leans into him willingly. “You really are the worst Iwaizumi.”

It feels odd to think not ten minutes ago he wanted to leave his own apartment to get away from her. Now, he would do anything to freeze this moment forever.

“Eh. You love me.”

His body goes taut, not realizing what he said. He’s joked about it before, but now it has some kind of gravity to it. His heart starts to beat so fast, Hajime worries it might punch a hole through his chest.

She pauses, gaze looking a little wistful as she looks away at a spot on the floor. The words that fall from her mouth are quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. I think I might.”

It’s odd how the world exploded at that same moment.

Hajime doesn’t let himself believe what he just heard. It seems too unbelievable, too perfect to be happening to him.

They sit in the silence of it, the words repeating over and over in his head. A choir of angels wouldn’t sound half as beautiful as that.

She doesn’t let his reverie last long.

“You’re just... not gonna say anything back? Real dick move there.”

The soft smile painting her features are enough to negate the shove she lands on his shoulder.

“Sorry. Sorry. I like you too.” He smiles down at her loopily.

She gasps in fabricated disbelief. “Only like? Are you serious right now?”

He responds with a shrug. “Yeah. You’re alright, I guess. Love is for suckers.”

He can’t resist the jab. It’s in their nature, after all.

“Oh, you wish, Iwaizumi. You wish I sucked.”

He gazes down at her, making sex jokes without a care in the world, and suddenly feels an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

“You’re gross.”

He loves her. Without a doubt in his mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Iwaizumi.” She replies with a grin. And in a moment, a long, perfect moment, the tiny space that was left between them is gone.

prev. / mlist.

taglist!

@chemiru, @whosmarjj, @seroh, @skrunkly-soaked-rat, @yessimo,

@walllflowerrrsss, @bae-ashlynn, @themoonismymarble, @ryuverse, @yuminako,

@aiieera, @itsdragonius , @sereniteav , @bakugouswh0r3, @zumicho ,

@rory-cakes , @eggyrocks , @kirigiriz, @garfieldissocool, @wave2mia,

@juie13, @19calicos , @hyuckslvr, @csbnova , @1lovestrawberrymilk,

@saralovesrui, @neoclb , @gsyche , @kmwife , @insanelycooljk

@solaqes, @nectardaddy, @akaashikins, @theycallmenanamisgirl, @aboveasphodel,

@cherrypieyourface, @hyenagoated, @thepurpleempath, @dazqa, @soulfullystarry,

@walllflowerrrsss, @bectoshi, @bakingcuriosity, @sun-nny-side-up

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu smau #hq smau #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi smau #haikyuu x reader #mw.iwaizumi hajime #hey cupid

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goddesspharo · 11 months ago

Note

Seems ill-advised, tbqh.

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

#hannix

[Send me the first sentence and a pairing and I'll write the next five.]

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

Natasha rolls her eyes and warns Jake not to make her regret bringing him home for Thanksgiving. She's still not sure that they're quite there yet, but it's not like she can uninvite him now. He had looked so pathetic last week when he told her that "The Seresin Family Hang-sgiving" was canceled this year because his parents needed to use up the tickets to Venice his sister had gifted them two anniversaries ago before December so he was probably going to stick around North Island and hang out at The Hard Deck with all the other lushes who had nowhere else to go. Natasha had been perfectly content to ignore how mopey he looked – after all, wasn't celebrating Thanksgiving akin to getting waterboarded for a dude who tried to stay away from carbs? – but then Bob flashed her a pointed glare like she owed Hangman something just because he'd dragged her to his family's ranch in Austin for The Fourth.

She didn't, of course, because Jake was so Rah Rah Rah about Texas that it wouldn't take much to get an invite to his hometown so he could wax poetic about Longhorns football and fried okra until the cows came home for tipping. But there was the small matter of Jake getting on top of a coffee table before the Summer Seresin Scavenger Hunt began and declaring to his entire extended family that he was "boo'd up" as if the thing that their relationship was missing up until that point was a heavy dose of mortification. Nat still hasn't forgiven Payback for expanding Hangman's musical horizons even though he's probably right that it's better than Jake donning a cowboy hat so he could make a Patsy Cline reference instead. For that alone, Natasha should've let him flounder in California while everyone else went back home, but rather than disappoint Bob and have to hear about it for the next half dozen training sessions, Natasha went against her self-preservation instincts and invited Jake to have turkey with her family in the suburbs of New Jersey.

She knew it was a bad idea the moment she asked and has only doubled down on that impression now when encountering the wild gleam in Jake's eyes as he looks around her childhood bedroom. Natasha's never been happier than at this moment that she took down the extremely embarrassing boy band posters from her walls the first time she came home from college. All that's left now is a cherry-picked altar of her accomplishments. There are honors society certificates on her walls and her diploma from Stanford, medals from swim meets and a gleaming golden soccer ball perched on top of the MVP trophy she got when their team won nationals after the favorites got disqualified on a technicality. Jake takes in the framed pictures spanning Natasha's life and photobooth strips with her friends taken at a mall kiosk when they cut class to go see Step Up. He looks mesmerized as he practically bounces on the balls of his feet while soaking up all these snippets of who she was before he met her.

The quiet gets to be too much so Nat finally relents and says, "You get one question."

Jake looks like Kevin McCallister let loose at Duncan's Toy Chest, unsure of what to do with all this newfound freedom as his eyes trail along from wall to wall before stopping at the picture of Natasha with her date at prom.

"Where's all your debate team stuff?" he finally asks.

Natasha grins. Sucker.

"I wasn't on the debate team."

"Wait a minute. You made it seem—"

"I'm just naturally gifted at arguing with you."

"Flag on play, Trace! I should get another question."

"Should've gone with a sure thing," she says with an unapologetic shrug. "I really thought you'd ask if I still had the outfit from my very brief stint as a cheerleader."

She can feel him grinning when Jake leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he asks with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, "Well, do you?"

Natasha makes a mental note to kill Bob when they get home.

#ask me things #i lied when i said five sentences #population of one on this island of extremely niche interests #top gun #hannix #*#please note that i am making a thinly veiled reference to yellowjackets any time i make a reference to high school soccer #fic

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 1 year ago

Text

Being in a relationship with the Fontaine Women

characters: Charlotte / Furina / Lynette / Navia x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

genre: Mostly fluff, with a bit of comfort added in Navia’s part

a/n: I decided to leave out Clorinde bc I honestly don’t have any concrete headcanons about her, mostly because she was only there for like 3 scenes and said a total of like 2 sentences. I will write for her, but I still need time to read more about her.

I tried to keep this at least a bit headcanon-y, but you know me, so I decided to add a small scenario to every character’s part, mostly just one’s I felt served as good examples of how things might be and that I didn’t feel like I’d get the chance to write in the future.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Charlotte

With Charlotte, days on which nothing happened were rare. There always was some sort of event going on somewhere, and wherever it was, the journalist wasn’t far away, dragging you along with her. But just because you were there for work, didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy yourselves, especially with someone as energetic as her.

Trying to hold secrets from her, be they good or bad, quickly proved to be futile. She was a Journalist after all, so slowly digging up information to eventually figure out the truth was part of her being. That being said, getting informations through investigating always felt more rewarding to her than getting them served on a silver platter, so it quickly became routine between the two of you to give each other only a few hints instead of normally announcing news… something that, to the misfortune of others around you, quickly also seeped into your conversation with your friends and family.

“‘Man trips and falls down stairs at the opera house’? No, why would anyone read an article when they get all of the information via the headline?”, you suggested before quickly discarding your idea, causing Charlotte to sink further into her thoughts.

“Ooh, how about ‘Tragic accident at the opera house leaves man injured’?”, just as quickly as the words left her mouth, the two of you gave each other an energetic high-five before Charlotte continued to map the article out loud, only for a weird feeling to slowly wash over you… as if there was something important you were forgetting.

“Isn’t today the premier of that thriller you wanted to write an article about?”, you asked, only for Charlotte to stop talking in the middle of her sentence, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced towards the clock.

“You’re right! These clothes should be good enough for the opera house right? Ah, who am I kidding? Nobody cares!”, words began shooting out of her mouth in a panic as she grabbed you by the wrist and started dragging you towards the Aquabus, pen and notebook in her other hand.

…Somehow, be it by the grace of your Archon or Charlotte’s insistence the Aquabus drove at twice its intended speed, the two of you managed to get there in time.

Furina

The Hydro Archon had an… interesting way of showing her affection. The performance she liked everyone thinking was the real her too fond of the dramatic to do so in a normal way while the real her was too easily flustered to go through with anything fancy. And so, it inevitably became your responsibility to initiate anything even slightly romantic.

Just because she was nervous however, didn’t mean Furina’d drop her usual act and with the way she behaved and talked whenever others were looking could easily fool people into thinking your dynamic was the other way around.

There weren’t many moments in which the two of you had the chance to be alone in public, with the Archon either surrounded by a few of the gardes or swarmed by the citizens of Fontaine. So when you wanted to visit your home in the countryside, Furina was quick to decide that she’d indulge you with her presence, choosing to keep silent about how she was happy to leave the city behind for a day.

If Furina’s uncharacteristic silence wasn’t enough to make you feel like there was something wrong, the look on her face would have made any doubts in your mind dissolve. Just as you had opened your mouth to say something however, you were interrupted by the feeling of something grabbing your hand, all the while the Archon's face was slowly painted red.

“Are you feeling fine Furina? Your face is-”, you were quick to tease, unable to hide your amusement as it was all written over your face. Furina however, did not look up, quickly cutting trying to cut you off, only for her own feelings to be betrayed by a crack in her voice.

“The sUN- I- Thanks for your concern, my dear companion, but there’s no need to worry. I’m fine, just a bit warm, the sun is scorching hot today after all”, she quickly stuttered out before putting on her act once again, hiding her face by looking away from you, only to quickly find herself engulfed in shadow as you put a parasol over her, greeting her with a smile when she finally looked back at you.

As the way to your destination was once again filled with silence, your eyes eventually landed on a hill covered in rainbow roses, causing you to quickly drag Furina from your actual path.

“Where are you going!?”, she managed to ask, only shy away for a moment when you suddenly shoved one of the roses in front of her face.

“Be careful when taking it, it’s really easy to prick oneself's on their thorns”, you spoke with a genuine smile, only for it to quickly contort into a teasing one when you saw her blush even further.

“I should have brought a better parasol, this one doesn’t seem to be working”, you joked, causing Furina to fire back with some sort of excuse. You didn’t care too much, the sight of her scrambling to regain her composure was too cute for you to do anything but silently observe it.

The rest of your journey was rather uneventful, as was your way back. What was of interest for many citizens of Fontaine however, was the rainbow rose their archon wore for the rest of the week

Lynette

To call Lynette a romantic would have been enough to net yourself a serious defamation case. She wasn’t her brother, who did and said all kinds of embarrassing stuff while putting on a mask, so while the two of you may have been in a relationship, most normal people wouldn’t be able to tell. So while you shouldn’t expect to see her showing her love to you in broad daylight, that didn’t mean that you didn’t get any special treatment.

On days where there was nothing to do, it had gotten somewhat common for Lynette to come over to your place, using it as a place to recharge her batteries when there was too much going on at home. So as you silently sat on your couch, reading a novel you had recently bought, while Lynette laid next to you, with her head placed on your lap, eyes closed as she relished in the calm atmosphere, the sound of the door suddenly swinging open was enough to give you a small heart attack.

“Pardon the intrusion, but have you seen my dear siste-”, Lyney’s voice rang through the room before his gaze eventually landed on the two of you, eyes instantly widening. “Oh sorry, I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, and while you liked to think that it normally took quite a bit to get you to blush, you could feel your cheeks quickly heat up. Was it because of his tone, his smirk or some weird combination of both, you didn’t understand, all you knew being that Lynette’s brother always found a way to make you feel embarrassed about even the most boring scenes.

“Should we-”, you quickly looked down at Lynette and began to talk, only for her to quickly finish your sentence for you.

“‘Try catching up to him’? I don’t think that’s necessary”, she stated matter of factly, her eyes not opening for even a split second before continuing to hum to herself.

“It seemed like he was looking for you, maybe he was just worried where you were?”, you asked, quickly getting a response in the form of a shake of her head.

“I told him I was visiting you. If I had to take a guess I’d say he was just passing your home and decided to quickly mess with you.” Her explanation made more sense than you’d like to admit, it wouldn’t have been the first time he decided to do things simply to try and get some amusement out of your reactions. However, you didn’t like the way Lynette made it sound like getting a reaction out of you was something that required so little effort.

“Sure it wasn’t you he was trying to mess with?”, you asked teasingly, only for her to finally open her eyes as a small smile found its way onto her lips.

“More than certain, redcheeks.”

Navia

Navia had always been easy to get along with. She was intelligent, funny and could single handedly lighten up the mood in any room, possessing an amount of self-esteem that was charming without coming across as her being full of herself. To use her own words: Who wouldn’t treasure having a partner like her. And while there were times her work as leader of Spina di Rosula kept her too occupied to see you much, she made sure to use her time with you to the fullest.

Was it eating at the Hotel together once in a while, or going on a walk around Poisson and Fontaine, taking in what remained of its colorful landscape while simply chatting the day away. Whether the subject of your conversation held any importance or you simply joked around, didn’t matter. Having each other by your side was enough to make any day a good one in retrospect.

There was a time you used to fear visits to the cemetery with Navia. It wasn’t like you didn’t want her to be sad whenever you visited, it was her fathers grave after all, but seeing her knees grow weak as she tried her hardest to keep a brave look on her face made your heart sting as if it had been pierced with a knife. It had been that way each and every time, no matter if it had been a week after his death or two years… But not this time.

As the two of you arrived at the grave, you glanced over at Navia, fully preparing yourself for what you might witness once again, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. Instead, you found her silently smiling to herself and as you followed her gaze, your eyes eventually landed on a pair of candles placed next to the grave, causing your lips to form into a smile as well.

“Looks like Silver and Melus were here before us”, you noted, only for her to shake her head in response.

“Melus told me he wouldn’t be able to visit the grave until later… And well, you know Silver. I doubt he’s the kind of guy to light candles.”

Callas the Unfaithful no more. You might not have known her father that much, only seeing him a couple of times, but you had no doubt that the one who raised Navia would never have murdered anyone for any reason.

Before you had the chance to lose yourself in your thoughts even more however, you were brought back to the real world by Navia’s voice.

“You still have the flowers?”, she asked, only for you to carefully grab them from your bag and present them to her, handing her one before putting the other in front of the grave. “Thanks. I’m sorry, but could you leave me alone with him for a moment? I’d like to tell him the good news”, she asked only for you to quickly nod.

“Thank you, you’ve been a great help today. I love you”, she told you with a smile.It wasn’t like her usual, radiant ones, instead being much smaller, but it was genuine, and that was the only thing that mattered.

#furina #furina x reader #focalors #focalors x reader #charlotte #charlotte x reader #lynette x reader #lynette #navia x reader #navia #fontaine x reader #genshin x reader

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dearabhi · 10 months ago

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book dates • harry james potter x reader!

PART 1 of the series!

SUMMARY: harry has a crush on mikayla greene and wants to talk to her. he goes to y/n l/n in need for help.

TROPES: slytherin x gryffindor, strangers to lovers?, almost unrequited love, oblivious daft dimbos!

author's note! hey everyone! welcome to the new series, and this was acc written quite a while ago, just so lazy to post this. aneewayz, the future parts will be posted soon!! [please interact! it might encourage me to write this cute ass fic soon!]

word count: 1k? i guess

warnings! swearings.

—

“Mind telling me why were you stalking me, Potter?” Y/N said, cornering Harry in the library. Look, Harry wasn't exactly stalking her. He just wanted to talk to Y/N, but he is so nervous to do it. So, Harry decided to just follow everywhere Y/N goes just in case Harry gets the courage to talk to her.

“I was not stalking you, L/N!” Harry manages to reply back. Y/N raises an eyebrow.

“Then why are you following me then?” Y/N questioned him. Harry tries to think of a reply.

“I was not following you either, I just happened to be in the same place as you, L/N” He lies, folding his arms.

“Potter, I have never ever seen you set foot in the library without the company of Granger.”

Now he has a question he doesn't know how to lie about. He just has to tell the truth then. But at the same time, Harry didn't want to let go of his pride to a Slytherin, either.

You should've thought of that before thinking of the plan, idiot! says a voice in his head. Shut up! he tells the voice.

Harry sighs and just decides to tell her instead. “Can we sit on a bench while we talk?” He asked to which Y/N nodded at him suspiciously. Harry thought she might think whatever he's trying to do is for some stupid prank.

“I want your help,” Harry said as soon as the two sat on the bench.

“How exactly?” Y/N asks.

“W- Well, I want you to read some books for me?”He starts. Harry avoids Y/N's eyes now. She is going to laugh at him after he elaborates his master plan. And he would never ever set foot in Y/N's direction ever again.

“Why would I ever read—” Y/N interrupts.

“Listen to me and you will understand!” Harry says quickly. “First of all, I want you to know that I have a crush on this girl from Ravenclaw. No, I am not going to say her name, sorry. She likes reading books that Hermione says would never read. And I heard you love reading books and would read any kind of book.”

“You see, L/N, I would recommend you to read some books for me and you would tell me whatever the storyline is,” Harry continues. “This is a win-win for both of us. You get to read books. You tell me about them and I get to talk to my crush about it.” Harry concludes.

Harry gathers courage to look at Y/N after elaborating his clever plan. The 'crush' he mentioned is Mikayla Greene. (You can't disagree with Harry on this opinion, Mikayla had a very beautiful laugh and eyes.)

Harry saw Y/N, who seemed to control an urge to laugh but failed at it miserably. Harry sighed. “You can laugh if you want, I guess,”

Y/N started to laugh very loudly that Harry feared Madam Pince might kick her out of the library permanently. Still, Y/N couldn't be able to control it.

Harry is mentally planning to sail to a far country and never come back again. Or hide in his Invisibility Cloak forever. He hates listening to his father's ideas now. He should've asked his other dad, instead.

“I— what— made —” Y/N could not even form a sentence at this point. Harry wanted to hit himself for telling her. He was also worried that Y/N might choke on her own laughter. Out of embarrassment, he covered his face.

Finally, after at least five minutes and a warning from Madam Pince, Y/N stopped laughing.

Why was Harry still here anyway? He still wants a reply after fully knowing what Y/N would say. He is a fool like that. That was when Harry noticed Y/N standing, a smile still plastered on her face. “Thank you, Potter.” She says.“I have never had a laugh like this in years.” Y/N started moving. But Harry wasn't done with her yet.

She still has not given her an answer right?

Harry finally caught on Y/N after literally chasing her. “L/N! Wait!” He shouted earning a glare from a third year girl looking at the two. Y/N stopped and turned around to face Harry.

“You still haven't told me the answer!” Harry manages to say to her despite the fact he was running out of breath.

Y/N cleared her throat, and chuckled again and replied quite firmly with a straight face. “No.”

｡˚ ✧˚ · .

Harry being the idiot he is, did not take the rejection by Y/N for his plan to his heart. He was quite determined that Y/N would somehow accept the deal.

Harry actually knew the reason why Y/N didn't accept his deal. Harry has actually never talked to Y/N despite the fact sharing a couple of classes through the years. She probably thought he was trying to get into a prank or something.

So, what if Y/N actually gets to know about Harry?

Harry tries that too.

Unfortunately, Harry's all gryffindor traits left whenever he approached the h/c slytherin. He would just create a lame excuse and move out of whatever place he was in immediately.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you, you're bad at whatever you are doing right now? because you actually are.” Y/N suddenly said when Harry tried to approach to talk to her when Y/N was reading in the library.

Harry, who was (pretending to) read— looked up to the Y/N sitting in front of him. “What do you mean, L/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry. “If you ever want to say something to me, Just say it. Anyone with a brain would know that you have been trying to approach me for the past two weeks.”

She was coming straight to the point. Shit. What would Harry say now? He had this planned didn't he? Then why the heck is he getting nervous?

“I—I actually needed to talk to you about the plan I told you the last time. This time with a better offer,” Harry started. Y/N clearly looked disinterested. “I swear you will like it, L/N!”

“Entertain me then,” Y/N told him in a dull tone.

“Um— So, Hermione told me that there is going to be a new bookstore in Hogsmeade.” If it isn't anymore obvious, Hermione is unaware of Harry's plan, by the way. “Perhaps if you accept to help me with my plan, I would buy books from the stores on our every hogsmeade visit.”

Harry looked at Y/N eyes, which were now sparking in excitement. Y/N cleared her throat and looked convinced, maybe?

“I will maybe accept this foolish plan of yours— let me finish before frightening the whole Hogwarts with your scream, Potter— If you read whatever book it may be with me— No! I am not finished yet! — I will only read the book if it interests me.” Y/N explained. Harry tries not to scream and (in Y/N's words,) frighten the whole Hogwarts with his scream.

“.. and that's it?” Harry asked Y/N, after she went on and went on with her rules.

“I will add more rules if you continue to annoy me, Potter. ” Harry rolled his eyes at that.

Atleast, Harry having Mikayla Greene as his girlfriend isn't in the far future anymore.

#harry potter #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter smut #pls interact!!#it helps alott!#harry potter x y/n

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hippolotamus · 6 months ago

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Sentence Sunday ✨

I can show you lies 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks 'Cause I can do it with a broken heart

Beloved mutuals and pocket pals... I honestly don't know what to say for myself. This is a case of 'I listened to a song too much, I had an idea I knew I was never gonna write' turned 'I'll just throw it out as a prompt' --> 'I'll just make a moodboard' --> 'Oh god, I've written over 1k words in place of a summary'. SO. Have... whatever this is, T Swift influenced Buddie actor au. Under the cut to save your dash.

Honestly, if the world still exists in the morning, Eddie Diaz doesn't really give a fuck. His girlfriend left, claiming he's still not over his late wife, and his teenage son, the last thread connecting him to said wife, went to go live with his grandparents. After, of course, blaming Eddie for pushing 'yet another one' away. Christopher wouldn't even look at him before he went.

Then there's Anita Mills, his agent, who is probably a few blood pressure points away from a stroke at this point. Assuming she doesn't fire him first.

Let her, he thinks, grabbing a bottle of Maker's Mark from the cabinet. He has a string of blockbuster films to his name, not to mention a commendable collection of Oscar's and Emmy's. Not that they made his parents proud or kept his wife from leaving him before she died. But they exist as proof that he's had a successful career. Between investments and liquid assets he has more money than he would know what to do with in a hundred lifetimes. So, fuck it.

Eddie breaks the wax seal and twists off the red cap. He doesn't even bother with a glass, not really seeing a need. He's never been a big drinker, but lately his tolerance has grown considerably. Indulging until he passes out seems like an ideal use of his time right now anyway. If he wakes up after? Well, he'll consider that a success.

------------------

"Hey! What the hell?!" Eddie manages, coughing and trying not to choke on the ice cold water hitting his body. He opens his eyes to see Mills towering over him, glowering and holding an empty vase. He swipes a hand across his face. "Seriously, Anita, what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, Eddie, you tell me." She disappears for less than a minute, returning with a hand towel she unceremoniously drops on his chest. "Help me out here. What's today?"

He wriggles himself to something resembling sitting and leans back against the coffee table. "What's today?" He parrots back dumbly.

Anita crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. "I asked you first."

Today, today, today. Where was he supposed to be- "Shit! The interview with, uh, fuck." He snaps his fingers and racks his brain trying to remember a name or a face. All he knows is they're important.

"Claudette Collins. Very good, Eddie, you got it part way."

"Give me ten minutes, I'll put myself together and we can go," he says, fighting the violent wave of nausea that hits as he scrambles to stand up.

"Save your poor carpet from getting puked on and sit the hell down."

"What? No, I can-"

"Eddie," Anita interjects, "the interview was five hours ago. The interview with the Claudette Collins. The one that took me months of phone calls, groveling and cashing in favors to get for you."

Fuck. "Anita, I'm so sorry. How-"

"Save it." Anita holds her hand up, effectively silencing him. It takes him back to being seven years old and having to explain why his dad's truck had an enormous dent in it. She rests her hands on her hips, pacing back and forth as she purses her lips. Eventually she sits in the leather armchair situated in the corner. "Eddie, you and I have known each other a long time. A long time. I've been your agent since you walked into my shitty office back in Dallas. Given your impressive display of awards, I'd say we've done pretty well together."

She inhales sharply, rubbing at her temple. Anita doesn't mince words, it's part of why he's always liked her. He never has to question where he stands. She says 'jump' and he knows exactly how high. It's not difficult to guess what's coming next.

"Eddie, I know you're going through a rough patch. What you're dealing with is hard enough without seeing it splashed on every tabloid and trashy website. Not to mention none of those places knows the real story, so it's all a bunch of 'she said he might have said' bullshit. But you've made it through tougher things." Anita doesn't need to clarify that she's talking about Shannon's death and how his parents tried to take Christopher. "I don't know what's happening this time, but I need to take a step back. My wife has made it very clear that all of my attempts at stress management are not working and that if I can't get it under control I shouldn't be surprised when I come home to an empty house. So."

Eddie swallows, waiting for the inevitable and cursing himself for pretending he wouldn't care.

"I've talked to a few friends in the business and found someone willing to take you on."

What?

"What? You're not firing me?"

Anita's features soften. "Technically, yes. I am very much dropping you like a scorpion I found in my boots. However, like I said, I found someone willing to work with you. The name is Bobby Nash. He runs a smallish agency but don't let that throw you. He's cobbled together some pretty impressive talent. I assume you've heard of Evan Buckley?"

Eddie scoffs. "Of course I have. Who hasn't? Christ, he's everywhere you look. I can't pass a damn bus stop without seeing his face." A few details begin to click into place within Eddie's muddled brain. "Bobby Nash is his agent?"

"Sure is. And we all know the stories about Evan's past aren't the type you trot out at parties. My advice is that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, go with Nash and do whatever he tells you to do. He even has a role in mind for you, costarring with Buckley. What do you say?"

What else was there to say? If Eddie didn't want to get blacklisted or wind up as some washed up tragic Hollywood story, being gossiped about where everyone - including his son - could see what a failure he was...

"I guess I say- when can I meet him?"

"Good answer." Anita clasps her hands together and gives him her signature smirk that tells him she approves. "Just leave everything to me."

Up to this point, Eddie has trusted Anita implicitly with all the messy business that comes with having him for a client. Why stop now?

tagged by @loveyouanyway @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @tizniz

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @a-noble-dragon @mountedeverest @fortheloveofbuddie

@weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6 @ramonaflow

@taketheplanspinitsideways @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz

@daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

@thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rainbow-nerdss

@steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes

@shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress

@bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05

@lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus

@thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

#hippo writes #buddie wip #actors au #not what i saw myself doing today #but when is that ever true #fic: lights camera bitch smile #seven sentence sunday #sentence sunday #sunday sentences #do i know what i'm doing?#not a clue

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anonymityisfunwriter · 4 months ago

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There Is No Coming Back From This - Chapter 1

Characters: Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Summary: "It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix. There is no coming back from this."

AN: So this story is just a smidge old, but I'm just now getting to update and crosspost it. Hope you enjoy!

Steve catches Tony as he rushes back to his lab, a sleek, gunmetal case in his hand. "Tony."

"Tony," he calls again.

Tony barely acknowledges Steve. "I'm busy, Rogers."

"What's in the case, Tony?" Steve follows right on Tony's heels, watching as Tony storms through the door of his lab. Steve flings the door open to reveal a frantic Tony rummaging through his drawers. "Don't do this, Tony. Don't do whatever it is you're about to do. This isn't what she would want."

Tony whips around to his former friend. "You don't get to tell me what she would want - I'm her father. I need to protect her. I can - I can protect her from this."

Steve looks on with remorse, offering only a slight shake of his head. "It's her time, Tony. She's tired. She wants to rest."

"Don't give me that," Tony snaps, chucking the wrench in his hand. "I can fix this!"

"It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix."

Tony Stark worked his entire life keeping you from the public eye - practically an impossible feat as a Stark, the sole heir to the Stark empire and fortune.

He worked tirelessly to protect you from the world. To protect you from his own mistakes. To make sure you'd never pay for his sins.

And while he was off fighting those highly publicized battles with the Avengers, you fought your own quiet, personal batter. Leukemia. First as a child and later many years spent in remission. And for the first time in his life, Tony Stark had to grapple with something he couldn't protect you from. He swallowed the most bitter pill, day in and out, waiting helplessly with bated breath.

It was in the middle of his feud with Steve that Tony got the call. He wasn't sure that he'd ever forgive himself for the events of that day.

The first missed call came from Pepper, right in the middle of a very intense argument with Steve and Bucky in Siberia. He declined the call and told FRIDAY to let Pepper know he was busy.

The second call was from Pepper again. FRIDAY said it was urgent. To be fair, it didn't really seem like there was anything more important than finding out Steve lied about his parent's death.

The third and fourth time, both from Pepper and Happy, he was too busy searching for vengeance to think straight.

Five calls later, he was on the ground, nursing both a wounded pride and actual wounds. That final call, Pepper told FRIDAY not just to relay the urgency, but to tell Tony it was about you.

He couldn't remember anything except a faint ringing in his ears and dread sitting in the pit of his stomach. It was a whirlwind until he sat in your hospital room, at your bedside.

You didn't remember it like that. You remembered him moving Heaven and Earth to make it back to you. You would never forget how he dropped everything and rushed to your side. There was nothing that mattered more than your father holding your hand as the doctors handed you your bleak prognosis, handed you your death sentence.

Anger and despair flashed in his eyes when the doctor spoke. He pulled you out of the hospital that same day, putting you under his own care. He declared that same day, you would live. He would fix this.

He put all his focus into fixing you. There was nothing else that held the attention of Tony Stark. Nothing seemed quite as important as keeping you alive. Between him, Bruce, and Dr. Cho, there was someone constantly working on keeping you alive.

No one could deny that it was looking bad. The doctors said months, and the months had come and gone.

Tony could barely look at you without bawling. Not in front of you, of course. He'd rush out of the room, storm over to his lab. Sometimes, he'd throw things. Other times, he would fall into his chair and shed silent tears.

While no one dared utter the words to you, you knew it had gone from bleak to practically hopeless.

You knew you were really on your last days when you saw Bruce watching you, holding your hand while you slept.

To you, Bruce was something of a mentor, a second father even. Though you inherited all of the infamous Stark genius, you'd stopped attending school during your first battle with cancer. Tony often joked that there were no better teachers than two of the greatest scientists in the world. During that first fight, Bruce was the one who would wheel you into the lab so you could learn and watch as he worked.

There was not a single doubt in your mind that you were hanging on by a thread when you saw Bruce's glassy eyes watching you drift in and out of consciousness.

"Please don't cry, Bruce," you whisper, speaking through your oxygen mask.

"I'm not crying," he assures you, wiping the corner of his eyes. "Just allergies."

"I've had a good life," you meekly offer, lifting up your oxygen mask. "Not everyone gets Bruce Banner and Tony Stark to homeschool them."

"It - it was an honor." He stops speaking for a moment as his voice breaks on his last word. "I just - I want you to know that you've always been like a daughter to me."

You know how hard it is for Bruce to say that, that the vulnerability isn't something that he would normally offer unless he felt like he had to. "Bruce, are you telling me that I have two dads?"

He huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head at you, "That infallible sense of humor. It's admirable."

"Bruce?" His gaze meets yours. "Don't let my dad tear himself apart - after, I mean. It's not anyone's fault. Yours or his. Can you - just make sure he knows that."

"Don't talk like that. We can still-"

"Bruce." You stop him from continuing the same unfounded hope they held onto for all these months. You shake your head, unshed tears shining in your eyes as you picture Tony after the inevitable happens. "It's okay. We both know what's gonna happen and it's - it's okay. I'll be okay. Just take care of him, okay?"

The knot in Bruce's throat is so tight he just shakily exhales and nods.

The final sign that things aren't going well: Steve Rogers is allowed to step foot back on the Avengers Compound. Though allowed might be too generous of a word. You're not sure if it's the medication, your fluctuating state of consciousness, or simply everyone's unwillingness to tell you anything, but he's back.

And while no one would say it, you all know he's come to say goodbye.

Steve can barely bring himself to say a word to you.

The last time he saw you, you were fine, you were perfectly healthy. He didn't even know you were sick again until he heard it from the news, which only offered vague details mostly revolving around Tony pulling out of events and almost entirely retreating from the public eye.

He knew the secrecy and vague details were for a reason - mostly because of Tony's overprotectiveness. He'd only heard the story from Pepper, but according to her, Tony saw one article implying that he deserved what happened to you, that somehow you were paying for his karmic debts. One nasty story was all it took. The very next day, he bought the newspaper and shut them down, effectively sending a message to all media outlets that you were completely and totally off limits.

The only thing that Steve heard was that your health was once again failing and Tony was taking personal time in the midst of the Accords drama to support you.

And he wasn't here for you. And he’s not quite sure how he’ll ever forgive himself for that.

Against all advice and reason, he risks it all to be there for you - one last time.

He mostly sits with you, constantly asking if you need anything or if there's anything he can do for you. With most of your time spent asleep, Steve finds himself whispering apologies over and over while he strokes your hair and holds your hand.

And Peter, the newest member of the team, well, he dials back on his Spiderman antics and heroics. At school, at home, anywhere he can't be by your side, he's anxious, dread swimming in his veins, worried that any minute he's going to get that call. That dreaded call. He's thought about it before. He's not sure who the call will come from, his Aunt May, Tony, Happy even. He's not quite sure. He's just always worried. So worried that every time his phone rings, he flinches in fear.

After school, he's only suited up for an hour or two at most before he rushes down to the Compound. No one believed him when he first said he met Tony Stark's daughter through his internship, let alone when you started dating.

Every day, he took it upon himself to keep you entertained. Sometimes, he'd just talk, about anything, about everything, his friends, his aunt, his school, his hero antics. You liked listening to his seemingly endless stories. He did everything and anything he could to keep you smiling.

And when it looks like it's going to be your last night on the Earth, he arrives to the Compound like he would any other day, prepared to take your mind off the heaviness of it all.

He bursts down the hallway, barely pulling off his Spiderman suit as he barrels toward your open door, "You will never guess what I found." He falters when he sees Tony standing in the doorway, blocking you from his sight. "Mr. Stark?"

"Hey, kid."

Panic bubbles up inside him. Maybe it wouldn't be a call. Maybe it would be exactly like this. "Is everything - is she-?

"She's fine," Tony quickly assures. It's not really what he means. You weren't fine. Not in the slightest. "She's been in and out all day."

"What happened?"

"An infection. She's had a fever all day."

Peter's voice breaks as he descends into despair. "But she'll - she's gonna be okay, right?"

Tony rests a hand on Peter's shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze, "She's just not strong enough to fight it off."

Peter looks up at him with desperate hope shining in his pleading eyes. "But you're gonna try, right? You're gonna try to fight it off?"

The brokenness of Peter's voice steels Tony's resolve. Not just for him. For Peter. For Bruce. For Pepper. For Steve. They couldn't lose you. "Yeah, kid, I'm going to try."

Peter stays by your side, holding your hand until the bitter end.

Your fever is so high that you find it hard to keep your eyes open. Despite all best efforts, no one is able to break it and it shows no signs of wavering.

And that's when Steve finds out Tony's plan. Or more accurately, when the guilt eating Bruce alive forces him to tell Steve the truth. When all hope is lost, Steve sees just how desperate Tony is to save you.

After all, that's what people mean when they say desperate times call for desperate measures.

But not even Steve could have predicted just how far Tony would be willing to go.

"What?" Steve demands.

"He's been working on it, Steve. I didn't - no one thought he'd actually do it."

"And what exactly is it?"

"He got the idea when you came back," Bruce explains. "He remembered your files, how sick you were, how you were better afterwards. He took the Teseract, Steve, he was talking about using that as his radiation source. I think he's really going to do this."

"Do what?" Steve grits out.

"He's going to dose her with the serum. An untested super solider serum. He thought it would buy him time - even - even if it didn't fix her, it would give him time. I told him there were boundaries even science shouldn't cross, but he won't listen. Not to me. Not to Pepper. But you have to try, I promised the kid I wouldn't let him fall apart."

"Clearly he's already fallen apart if he's actually considering doing this."

"I want to save her as much as he does, but this isn't how she would want to be saved. I think we both know that."

"Where is he?"

"He went to find Pepper. Then he was going to her room."

Tony clenches his jaw and walks into your room. You're asleep and Peter's asleep with his head resting on your lap. He'd be the first to admit that he didn't like this at first, but he has to give credit to Peter for sticking with you. You genuinely seemed happier with him. Your eyes slowly wake to see your father on the verge of tears. You reach out, giving his hand a weak squeeze. "It's okay, Dad. I've had a good life."

One hand hold your burning hand, the other rubs his clenched jaw. He nods as you drift back out of consciousness. The moment you do, he bristles out of the room. He's content to know he's not leaving you alone.

Steve catches Tony as he rushes back to his lab, a sleek, gunmetal case in his hand. "Tony."

"Tony," he calls again.

Tony barely acknowledges Steve. "I'm busy, Rogers."

Tony whips around to his former friend. "You don't get to tell me what she would want - I'm her father. I need to protect her. I can - I can protect her from this."

Steve looks on with remorse, offering only a slight shake of his head. "It's her time, Tony. She's tired. She wants to rest."

"Don't give me that," Tony snaps, chucking the wrench in his hand. "I can fix this!"

"It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix."

"She calls you Uncle Steve," Tony quietly reminds him, standing before Steve with a white knuckle grip on the case and a vial of that familiar blue serum in his hand. “She was absolutely devastated when you all left.”

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?” Tony rhetorically asks. “Remind you that you've known my daughter since she was 5. Remind you that to her, you were family. And now you're okay with letting her die?"

"I'm not okay with it," Steve barks. "I'm not okay with it. I love that kid, so stop trying to guilt me into thinking that any of this is okay because it's not. You're playing with things that shouldn't be played with, Tony. There's no coming back from this."

"A little hypocritical coming from a 100 year old man, don't you think?" Steve is about to respond, but Tony cuts him off again, speaking with tears burning in his eyes. "In fact, everyone here is living on borrowed time, why can't she? Why does she have to be the one to go? We've all escaped death, plenty of times. Why does she have to die at 17 years old?"

Steve softly exhales, "Tony..."

"She's 17, Rogers. 17 years! That's all she's had. 17 years," he repeats, his voice breaking. "She hasn't even had a chance to live yet. She hasn't - she hasn't done anything wrong. She'll never turn 18. She'll never get to walk down the aisle. She'll never have a family. She'll never get to live her own life. You and me? We've both got blood on our hands. We've made mistakes. We can say we've lived. She can't. She didn't even get a chance and you don't want me to even try to save her?"

"This isn't how you save someone."

"She's just a kid, Steve," Tony whispers, clenching the vial in his hand. "I have to, Cap. Sorry."

When Tony reenters your room, Peter's still gently snoring on your lap and you're sleeping. He can tell it's not a restful sleep, you're still sweating profusely, your hair is clinging to your forehead and your head lolls back and forth. Your breathing sounds so labored that it's downright painful. With another wave of determination, he sets everything up and pushes some more pain medication.

“Mr. Stark, is everything okay?” Peter drowsily asks, lifting his head slightly.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine," Tony says, avoiding actually answering Peter's question. "Why don’t you take a nap in the guest room next door? I’ll stay with her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Alright,” Peter nods, reluctantly leaving the room.

Tony sighs again, telling himself that he's giving you more time, more life. All he needed was more time. All you need was more life.

Steve, Bruce, even Pepper, they're all wrong. This is the right thing to do. He's sure of it.

He glances back at the locked door, keeping everyone and anyone out, glances at the blue vial in his hand, and then at you. He can't let this happen to you, so he pushes the syringe.

When you open your eyes hours later, you're thrown for a loop. You're not quite sure how you're still here. You were sure that you were a goner. It certainly doesn't feel that way anymore. Your eyes flicker to Tony as he stands watching your every movement. "Dad?"

He refuses to meet your eye, and you immediately know something is wrong. Even more so when he doesn't utter a word, because if there's anything you've learned in your life, it's that your father always has something to say. "Dad?"

"I'm sorry." He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. "I couldn't - I couldn't let you die."

"Dad? What did you do?"

He embraces you, whispering, "I'm sorry."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist 'There Is No Coming Back From This' Chapter List

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jerzwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Thanks for this ask. It was time to dust Kaycee's ex-boyfriend Tomas off! I hope you enjoy this!

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Ethan x Kaycee (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,100 Summary: Kaycee's good friend and ex-boyfriend Tomas is in town, and they're meeting up for brunch. Ethan doesn't mind one bit... or does he?

Ethan sat at his desk, doing his best to read the latest edition of the New England Journal of Medicine. Normally, it would have easily held his attention for hours, but today, he read the same sentence five times over and still couldn’t tell you what it said. He sat back with a sigh, the knot in his stomach tightening with each passing minute.

But his tension melted away the moment Kaycee stepped into his office. Her hair was a slight mess, and her face flushed after completing her long shift, but she was still beautiful to him. Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she closed the door to his office and turned to him with a bright grin.

“Hey,” she beamed. After giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she leaned against his mahogany desk, stretching her arms above her head as she yawned.

“Hey,” Ethan replied, attempting to sound casual. “Are you ready for brunch?”

“Almost,” she replied. “I just need to change out of these scrubs and make myself look like a real person.”

“Mmmh,” Ethan hummed, the tension in his face visible. He wasn't doing such a good job at appearing casual.

Kaycee crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. “Ethan, are you sure you’re OK with this?”

It wasn’t her usual Sunday brunch with friends, though Ethan wouldn’t be joining her for that, either. They were attempting to keep their relationship quiet for the time being, and if Dr. Ramsey showed up at brunch with a bunch of residents, they might as well take an engagement announcement out in the Boston Globe. Sometimes, it bothered him that he couldn’t join her with her friends, but today was something different.

Tomas was in town. Kaycee’s ex-boyfriend, first love, and now dear friend, Tomas. The handsome young man with wavy brown hair and a dimpled chin who had been charming the nation on the afternoon talk show circuit hyping his new best seller, Tomas. The successful therapist turned author turned activist who embodied everything Kaycee held dear, Tomas. Ethan despised the name more each time he heard it.

“Of course, I’m OK with it,” Ethan lied, his voice wavering. “Why would I care about you going to brunch with Tomas? Jealousy is beneath me.”

“Really?” Kaycee smirked, gently nudging him. “Because I could have sworn I saw you scowling at Tomas’s Instagram profile the other day.”

Ethan’s cheeks reddened, and he chuckled, knowing he had been caught. “OK, maybe I’m a tiny bit jealous. But not for the reason you think. Tomas is here one weekend, and he gets to be in public with you, but I still have to hide in the shadows."

Kaycee’s expression softened, and she began to reach for him when the door to Ethan's office burst open. A new nurse entered, rambling on about a patient's chart without so much as an introduction. Kaycee had managed to jump back just in time so they hadn't been caught in a compromising position. But the red on Ethan’s face was no longer the result of Kaycee letting him know she caught him scowling at Tomas.

“EXCUSE ME!” He barked, the depth of his tone leaving the nurse wide-eyed. “How long have you been working at Edenbrook?”

“Two weeks,” the nurse shrugged.

“And where did you work before that?”

“Tufts.”

“Tufts. I'm friends with Dr. Jordan at Tufts, I'll need to call him and ask if it's acceptable to barge into an attending’s office without so much as a knock at Tufts. Do you think he'll say it is?"

“No,” I suppose he won't," the nurse replied.

“Then why on earth would you believe it's acceptable here? Now state your business – quickly – then get out so Dr. MacClennan and I can return to caring for our patients.”

Kaycee bit her cheek the whole time the nurse was in the office, doing whatever she could not to laugh, but now that she had left, she let it all out.

“I see the copy of How to Make Friends and Influence People I bought for you has been working wonders,” she chuckled.

A sheepish grin spread on Ethan’s face as he pulled her onto him, his chair swiveling as she landed on his lap. Their lips came together in a ferocious kiss, but Kaycee soon pulled away, still laughing.

“Do you feel better now, Dr. Ramsey?”

“Sort of,” he smiled. “But we have to be more careful if we don’t want to get caught.”

“True,” she said, reaching out to caress his cheek, "But, Ethan, I didn't realize how much keeping it a secret was bothering you. If it's hurting you, maybe it's time we reevaluate.”

Ethan sighed wearily. “You’ll be through with your residency in four months. I still think it's best for us to wait."

“And you’re OK with me having brunch with Tomas. I hope you know we’re just friends now. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “I trust you implicitly. Besides, who could compare with me?”

Kaycee mussed his hair and pulled him into a playful kiss. “You've been hanging out with Tobias too long," she laughed. "And you're right. No one compares to you. But hey, our closest friends know that we’re together, and Tomas is my good friend. You get off work in an hour. Would it be OK to bring Tomas to your place for drinks afterward? I’d love to introduce the two of you. I think you’d really hit it off.”

“I don’t know,” Ethan hesitated. “Wouldn’t it be a little weird for me to sit down for drinks with your ex?”

Kaycee shot him a sarcastic look. “Really? Because I don’t sit down for drinks with Harper at least once a week.”

“That’s different,” Ethan smirked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because it’s Harper!”

Kaycee rested her head on his shoulder and squeezed him extra tight. “Please,” she asked sweetly. You and Tomas are important to me, and I really would like you to meet.”

“As if I could say no to you.” He kissed the top of her head and nudged her off his lap. "You should go get ready. Oh, what does the man drink? Please don’t say some fruity concoction that will make my toes curl.”

“He’s a big fan of single malt Scotch,” Kaycee stated. “If memory serves, Balvenie and Macallan were his favorites.”

“Really?” Ethan raised an eyebrow in approval. “So you always had good taste then."

“You better believe it,” she grinned. “Now, let me go. I have to steam my blue dress in the locker room after I shower.”

“The blue dress?” Ethan’s eyes went wide. “Not the blue dress.”

“Of course not,” she laughed. “That’s still at the tailor being mended after you ripped it off me last time.”

Ethan sat back in his chair, a proud smile on his lips. “Yeah, that’s right," he chuckled. "What time can I expect you?"

“Say two o’clock?"

“It’s a date,” Ethan smiled. “But brunch is most certainly not.”

#open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart choices #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x kaycee #choices #choices fanfic #choices the stories you play #playchoices #playchoices fanfic

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