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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months

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UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

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#aita #am i the asshole #aita update #the saga of proposal anon

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fandsart · 1 year

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Steve and Nancy's relationship didn't work out because they had different wants and needs so when Steve starts dating Eddie he tries really hard not to have wants and needs of his own. Knowing that Eddie didn't reschedule Hellfire for Lucas doesn't help with this.

He goes to a few metal concerts even though he always gets migraines the next day from the volume, he lets Eddie talks about all kinds of nerd stuff even if it makes him feel stupid when he can't keep up.

It's not even like he's dragging Steve into things that are actively detrimental to him all that often. Just a couple activities things a week. But Steve also feels the need to hide some of his own interests, knowing that Eddie hates them.

Not that he doesn't love being around Eddie, but now that they're dating he's hardly not around, and it's hard to find time to keep up on the teams that Steve roots for. But it's... it's fine. He's happy with Eddie, so he can make the sacrifice to hide these parts of himself. It's fine.

Eddie doesn't realize this is going on because he's aware that he's pushing Steve out of his comfort zone, what he isn't aware of is how Steve far out of his comfort zone he really is, and how he doesn't want to bother Eddie with it, afraid they'll break up over it.

Then he slips up, just a little bit, when Eddie invites him to a concert on the same day he plans on watching a game. This isn't even the first time this has happened, but Eddie usually gives him more of a heads up for this kind of thing. He thought he was close enough to the date that he wouldn't have to worry about it getting disrupted, and it was a pretty big game, so his disappointment is higher than usual.

Eddie is talking about a metal band and is going on a small ramble explaining the context of where they sit in the metal scene.

"And they have a concert in Indy tomorrow," he grins, "and I really want to take you."

"Oh, I was gonna... Yeah, we can do that."

"You were gonna what?"

"It doesn't matter. It's stupid."

"Steve, it's not a big deal. It's not like I'm taking you to a Dio concert. These guys are actually pretty small and relatively local. I'm sure we could catch another one, it would just be kind of down the road."

"Eddie it's fine. We can go to your concert. Whatever you want."

Eddie gives him a look. "I don't want it to be 'my concert.' If you wouldn't enjoy it, I wouldn't want to just be dragging you with me. And I don't want it to be 'fine' I want it to be enjoyable!"

"I enjoy spending time with you."

"Ok, so what were you going to do tomorrow?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Obviously it does!"

They're fighting and this was exactly what Steve was worried about. If Steve could have just gotten over himself, cut the bullshit, they wouldn't be fighting right now.

"Eddie, it really doesn't. Can we just go to the concert and forget about this?"

"No. If you don't want to go, you don't have to."

"If I don't go, will you go without me?"

"Unless you don't want me to."

"I want to go with you, wherever."

"Ok, you know what, I just remembered I actually have to help Wayne with something on tomorrow."

"No you don't. Look, I wasn't gonna do anything. Can we please just go to this concert you want to go to?"

"Look, I have to go to school. I'm already over 2 hours late." With that, he's out the door.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve's not sure what time the concert was even meant to be at, but if he could just get a hold of Eddie and convince him he wants to go, maybe they won't miss it. It's already fairly well into the afternoon and he hasn't heard from Eddie all day.

The first few times he calls, there's no answer, but when he finally gets an answer it's Wayne that picks up.

"You almost missed me," he says. "Make it quick, I gotta to get to work."

"Is Eddie there?"

"Nah, he should be in Indy by now. Did he not tell you? There's some concert down there."

"Yeah, I, uh... Thank you Mr. Munson."

So Eddie went by himself even though Steve told him he wanted to come, and he'd pretended that he didn't even want to go.

Steve watches his game that night, kind of miserable and guilty. He debated not watching it, almost as a point of honor, since he lied to Eddie and told him that he didn't really have anything planned today. They'd both lied about their plans last night and Steve is so ready for Eddie to come back and say that he had a much better time without Steve and it's time they go they're separate ways.

His team loses and he falls asleep on the couch soon after, the tv still playing in the background.

He wakes up in the morning to a knock at the door. Eddie stands on the other side.

"Hey, baby. Did I wake you up?"

"Um... yeah." He wants to bring up what happened yesterday, that Eddie went without him, but he's afraid it will just make things worse. He obviously wanted to go without him if he did so, and bringing it up might just start an argument about how Eddie doesn't need Steve's permission to do things (and he doesn't) reinforcing why he didn't want Steve to come in the first place. He wants to stay with Eddie forever and he's worried the relationship is starting to fall apart. "It's fine. I should be up by now anyway."

Eddie hums almost suspiciously. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." He moves out of the way.

"'Whatever I want,' huh?" he asks, as he walks through the doorway.

"What?"

"Nothing. We'll talk about it in a minute. A few things first. Come on." He drags Steve over to the couch. "So what did you do yesterday?"

"Tried getting a hold of you, mostly."

Eddie chuckles nervously. "Sorry. But did you do whatever it was you planned on doing before?" Steve tenses just a little bit. Is Eddie going to accuse him of choosing baseball over their relationship? He kind of almost did when he first opened his mouth after Eddie first suggest the concert. Is he going to call him out for that. "Relax baby, you don't even need to tell me what it was, as long as whatever it was you were doing wasn't a person."

"No, never!"

"I know, Stevie. I know you're history; I know you would never do that. So I'm not upset. So did you carry out your plans, whatever they were?"

"Yeah. It was disappointing."

"Well, I'm glad you did what you wanted anyway. And since you were busy and couldn't come to the concert, I went and brought you back a tape." He pulls a cassette tape out of his pocket. "You obviously weren't going to admit you didn't want to go, but I still wanted to share this with you, so here. This is yours."

Eddie's more attentive to when Steve seems hesitant to do something after that. Eventually Steve gets comfortable enough to bring up where his reservations stand regarding a lot of these things. Eddie switches up how he talks about his interests, trying to make it more coherent and gets Steve earplugs for concerts. He encourages Steve to talk about his own interests, even when Eddie doesn't fully get the appeal himself. He can go a little outside of his comfort zone too. For Steve, it's always worth it.

#They have a lot of talks about this as time goes on which eventually leads to Eddie apologizing to Lucas btw #about the hellfire campaign #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #ficlet #fandsart

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mrrharper · 1 month

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Waiting For The Roommate

Max sat in the passenger seat of his roommate's truck, waiting for Buck, who needed to quickly come back to their dorm room. As he waited he took off his tank top, it was fuckin' hot inside. He rolled down the window to get some fresh inside the car.

As he stuck his head out the window to breathe in some fresh air he saw some nerd approach him. He was wearing a dark brown button-down shirt and had a stack of papers in his hand.

"Max, is that you?" The nerd asked, looking at him. A smile appeared on his face.

"uhhhhhhhh... dude, do i know ya?" He asked, convincing himself not to call the guy a loser or a nerd. Coach said he had to get better at dealing with strangers.

"Max, it's me - Michael. We went to high school together!" The other guy replied, clearly convinced that they knew each other. High school? Max's head was covered with a fog, he couldn't conjure up any specific memories from high school.

"you sure bro?"

"Damn, Max, we had like half our classes together!" The nerd was getting a bit frustrated for some reason. "We talked about going to the same uni, and so much more! And now you say you don't know me?"

Max tried to focus. High school, friends, classes, college. It felt like his brain was fighting against him, a thick fog covering everything. His thoughts began turning towards his next workout. Damn, he'll be doing arms and chest. Yea-- Holy shit, he knew that guy!

"oh fuck, mike, yeah, of course, how are you brah?" Max extended his hand for Mike to bump, but he just awkwardly looked at it. Max ignored it.

"Oh my god, for a moment I thought you weren't joking" A half-hearted laugh escaped Mike's mouth. Max just grinned. "I'm fine, settled into college life. Found a study group--" Mike continued talking but Max didn't register another word. He was this guy's good bro - apparently - but that didn't mean he would be able to tolerate that nerd bullshit. He was made for different things than studying - like workin' out with his best bro Buck.

"Anyway" Mike looked straight at Max, whose attention came back. "How was your first year. You look... like a different person!"

"what you mean bruh?" Max asked. What did that ner-- what did Mike mean? Different? He was always a badass jock.

"I mean, you're jacked! In high school you hated gym class, and here you are, buff and all."

"dude, am like, ya know, a real bro, dude. gotta be jacked as hell" He responded and flexed his right arm, his biceps moving and bulging under his skin.

"I mean, that's quite the change. Like, we kinda lost contact after the summer, and you didn't give any sign of life, and I thought... but you're here!" Mike was clearly excited and Max smiled. Wait, what was this dude's deal? He was textin' and talkin' with a nerd like that? Nah, this didn't make sense... where the fuck was Buck where he needed him!

"huhuhuhuhuhuh, yeah bruh" Max just chuckled like the dumb jock he was, he didn't know what to say. He shifted in his seat and scratched his armpit.

"Anyway" Mike went on "how was your first year in college? Were you able to get into that engineering program you've talked about?"

Engineeri-- what? "huhuhuh bro, are you high dude, i ain't here for some weird soundin' shit like that bro. am here to get drunk, work out and crush State, fuck yeah duhuhuhuh." Oh yeah, Max remembered the last game they played, State's lame ass defence couldn't stop the brute force of their offensive line. And the look on their faces when their WR1 tore a muscle in his leg... fuckin' priceless dude!

Mike was clearly not prepared for that answer, which Max found weird, cause he thought his jacked bod was proof enough that he wasn't a stupid nerd.

"Wait, so..." He was clearly confused "if you're not doing engineering then what is your major?"

"major?" Max had no idea what that guy meant... Major... what was a major... Coach talked to him about something like that... It was something along the lines of... "uhhhhh, general ed? dunno bro, never really been a guy to focus on shit."

"What, general education?" Mike seemed shocked. "But, like... I don't understand, Max, you... You said you wanted that, so that you could do a PhD... Why did you change your mind... Like, really, why did you change so much?!"

All that talk 'bout changes made Max's head spin a little bit. Like, what changes? He's been a fuckin' bro since he came here, got a room with Buck, cause before that-- his brain again began filling with fog, his thoughts slowing down to a halt, but not before he blurted out a response.

"duuuuude, like, bro, ive been a real bruh, like, forever dude, duuuuuuuh, like i got my bro Buck, and he got me to Coach, and uhhhhhhhhh, ya know, he worked on me and huhuhuh--" and his mind went blank, a dumb grin stuck on his face.

"What do you mean? A coach 'worked on' you? That sounds... concerning, you know that, right?" Mike adjusted his glasses and looked at Max, clearly concerned.

But Max... Max's brain had shut off. He was sitting in the passenger seat of his best bro Buck's truck, chuckling like a dumb idiot and drooling slightly.

"duhuhuhuhuhuh, duuuude... fuckin' hot today brah, gotta get that pump huhuhuhuh" He flexed his arm and touched his bulging biceps.

"Jesus, did they do something to you? Did you have some traumatic head injury?" Mike leaned on the car, looking inside the vehicle to see what was happening with Max. "God, did they brainwash you? You're a completely different person... and a dumb jock!"

It took a while for Max's fog-covered brain to register what the nerd said. And before he even began formulating a response Buck approached the car.

Buck was wearing a loose tank top that revealed his broad shoulders and giant guns, while also showing off his chest. His shorts, like second skin on his thick thighs, left nothing to imagination with his bulge clearly visible. He was a jock. An alpha. Max's best bro.

"duuude, ya won't believe the chick i saw while gettin' out of the dorm--" He started speaking as he opened the door on the driver's side, but then he noticed Mike standing by Max's window. "ey bruh, who's that loser?"

"huh?" Max turned to Buck, his grin disappearing and his his brow now furrowed. "i... dunno, bro..."

Buck and Mike looked at each other for a moment, the first one annoyed, the second slightly terrified.

"get away from the car" Buck barked as he sad down in front of the steering wheel.

"Wait, please, just a moment, you know what happened to Max? Pleas i just want to--"

"Go away, you fuckin' nerd" was the response Mike got. He took a step away from the car but didn't go away. Meanwhile Max realized what was happening. Some nerd was disturbing them and not listening to Buck's commands. And that wasn't the right thing to do. He turned his head to face the nerd.

"why you starin' at me, nerd" Max growled. His mind, completely covered by the fog, was now following Buck's lead. And Buck didn't like the nerd. So Max didn't like the nerd.

"Max, what... what happened?" Terror shifted into confusion as Mike tried to comprehend Max's sudden change in mood.

"oh, just fuck off, loser" Max responded and Buck took that as a sign. He turned the engine on and drove away, leaving Michael alone in the parking lot.

"uhhhhhh, do we know this guy?" Max asked a few minutes later. "that nerd form before?"

"nah, bro, of course not. we're real jocks, we're not gonna fraternize with fuckin' losers." Buck let our a low and dumb laugh. "by the way, tomorrow we're gonna get ya to Coach for a check up, just in case"

#jock tf #jock #football jock #personality change #nerd to jock tf

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

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hellish-sunsets · 28 days

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You're an Asshole - Pt 2 - First Attempt

Pt 1

Summary: Adam goes to a concert and tries to win reader over.

Warning: swearing

Word Count: 1,302

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

This was fucking bullshit.

He glared at the stupid list in his hand, squinting at the smudged and blurry ink. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the clock on the shelf somewhere above his head. The only light was from the desk lamp, dim and just enough to light the old wooden desk. It wasn’t the grand mahogany desk of his office at work, but the worn pine of the desk shoved in the corner of his bedroom. The corners were covered in dust, telling of how rarely this desk was used. Why would he? There was plenty of better shit to do.

He was supposed to be going to a concert later tonight. That should be a fuckton more fun than agonizing over this bullshit.

Misogynistic, egotistical, sex obsessed, demeaning, condescending (he was almost certain those two were the same thing but whatever), hateful, violent, foul-mouthed all around rude.

He was sure he wasn't always like this, was he? He huffed, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He chose not to dwell on that thought. What mattered right now was proving to that stuck up bitch he wasn't an asshole. Even if… he was starting to think maybe he was. But what did that matter? No one was perfect. Besides, he was the first man himself! He was allowed a few more assholeish mannerisms, right?

Fuck that stupid bitch! This whole thing was fucking with his head. He would just got to this lame ass concert, prove to that bitch he was the most charming, not assholish person in existence, they would fuck and he could be over with this whole fucking situation.

He smirked at himself, leaning back in the chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. He would be sure this night would be worth it.

‐‐—--------------------

Just as he suspected, the concert itself was lame as fuck, some whiny emo bullshit he just couldn't get behind. He spent most of the time looking around for her. What even was her name again? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered.

He didn't catch sight of her until the concert was almost over, the chorus of the last song clashing over the audience and drowning out their cheers. She was towards the front, the lights flashing and playing across her skin, lighting up her face and broad white smile, long white hair and wings reflecting the various colors, mostly blues and purples. She almost looked like she was glowing, but that was corny ass couple shit or something. It was just another chick at a concert, just like all these other bitches.

He let her enjoy the rest of the song before approaching her, the last clash of the cymbals his signal to swoop in.

“Watch this, Lute.” He said with a smirk, elbow digging into her side and making her scowl and roll her eyes. “I'm gonna have this bitch eating out of my hand.”

“I know, sir, just get going before she runs off.” She said with a huff, fighting off a smirk of her own. He gave her a mock salute and headed towards his latest victim, the picture of innocence as she happily chatted with the few winners around her, unaware of how hard she was about to fall for him. He shoved through the crowd, earning scowls he ignored.

Just be nice. Don't talk about yourself too much. Pretend you care. He could do this, just for one night.

“Hey, ti- uh, toots!” He said with a cocky grin, sliding in next to her. He mentally congratulated himself for not calling her tits. Most chick's didn't like it. He wasn't wearing his mask tonight, figured it would be easier to win her over if he could use his naturally good looks. That, and maybe she was stupid enough to think he was someone else.

The group around her seemed tense when he showed up. One of them, another chick, tried to grab her arm and drag her away, but she gently nudged them off and offered them a warm smile.

“Hi, Adam. Gotta say, bit surprised to see you around here. Didn't think you liked this type of music.”

Not stupid then. Good, more fun that way.

“Ya know, just figured I'd try something new.” He said with a half shrug.

Her eyes lit up, a sparkling sort of blue. He couldn’t make out the exact shade in the dim lighting of the venue. “Good for you! I love hearing new music, it's so interesting to see all the different ways humans come up with to make songs! I also just really like finding what new instruments they come up with! How did you like it?”

He could feel the smirk slip from his face as he huffed. He had a lot of words to describe this donkey shit of a concert: whiney, pathetic, shit, stupid, fucking lame. But he couldn’t voice any of that. He had to be polite. Eventually he managed another shrug.

“Yeah, definitely not my thing. Still going metal and rock and roll all the way.” That cocky smirk of his returned to his face and she gave an understanding nod.

“Yeah, fair enough, but I'm glad you gave it a try! Life’s boring if you never try anything new.” She said with that flashing smile. Her friend's hand was on her arm again, but she still wouldn’t follow their lead, not yet anyways. He smirked to himself. He was reeling her in nicely, he was sure.

“Yeah? And what music do you find rockin'm?” It was a trick question, of course. He had already heard her music before, but he wasn’t about to let that slip. Don't want to give her a big head or something or give off the impression he was some fan.

“Ah, I don't usually have a genre preference.” She said with a wave of her hand, feathers ruffling slightly as she thought. “It's more like… I have specific songs I like, but no favorite genre. I don't really have a favorite band either. That's kind of fucking lame though, huh?” She said that last part with a nervous chuckle, wings drooping slightly, finger scratching at her cheek.

“Of fucking course not, don't be fucking stupid.” He said with a frown. It was a rather lame attempt at reassurance, but that was the best he could do. Her eyes widened in surprise and he was sure he had fucked it up, but then she flashed that bright smile of hers.

“Aw, thanks Adam! I guess you're right. Anyways.” She waved it off and continued. “I'm in a band and we do stick to a specific genre, I guess, but that’s just for image, you know? No one likes a band that's constantly changing genre. It's like… folk… punk? I think that's the best way to describe it.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds badass.” And he might have actually meant it? He wasn’t entirely sure. Probably not. “Anyway, want to take this party on the road or something?”

And for a moment he really did think he had her. She gave him that pretty little smile, her wings fluttering slightly.

“Nah, I can’t.” He could feel his face fall and she giggled at that look. “Awww, come on, don’t look so disappointed! I’ve got work to do before bed, but we can hang out another time, okay?”

It took every fiber in his being to remind himself to keep his cool, play it off, it wasn’t a no. He could still win her over yet.

“Yeah, alright, no biggie. Catch you next time bitch!” He abruptly turned away and marched off, managing to hide the scowl on his face, at least from her.

Next time, bitch. He would fucking get her next time.

#reader insert #hazbin hotel reader insert #Adam x reader #adam x fem!reader #adam x angel!reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam

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seijorhi · 8 months

Text

Wither and Bleed

sorry for the wait y'all <33 Daishou Suguru x female reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader w.c 4.6k tw: dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, nsfw, stockholm syndrome, mentions of blood, alcoholism, mild smut

Daishou eyes the bottom of his glass dispassionately, watching the amber dregs of whiskey roll as he slowly tilts it – pointedly ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching, the low, mocking whistle that follows.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, Daishou, but I gotta be honest, this place is a dump and you look like shit.”

There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, his eyes are glazed, bloodshot. Despite the heaviness in his head, the liquor fuelled haze and exhaustion that makes pulling a coherent train of thought… somewhat difficult, he’s not so far gone that he can’t recognise the grating voice and accompanying laugh.

One more. One more, and maybe then he’ll stumble off home to continue drinking in peace. That, or he’ll pass out the second he hits the couch. At this point, he’s not picky.

“Another,” he rasps at the bartender, whose only response, aside from the surly look he sends Daishou’s way, is to unscrew the cap of the bottle of cheap whiskey and tilt it back over his glass. Glaring, all the while.

Once upon a time, Daishou might’ve said something to that. Made some snarky remark, goaded him ‘til he got a rise – or got his ass thrown out.

(You’d chide him for it, too, in that exasperated tone of yours. He’d be tempted to think you were serious, but you’d sigh, call him hopeless and your hand would snake in his on the walk home anyway.)

Disdainful sneers, the staring, the whispers and pointing, baldie behind the bar wouldn’t be the first stranger to recognise him. Daishou can’t even blame the guy, really. A woman goes missing, all eyes turn to the husband. The boyfriend. The ex. He might be a piece of work, depending on who you asked –an asshole, arrogant, a conniving son of a bitch – but hell would freeze over before he’d ever lay a hand on his girl. On any girl.

So, yeah, he gets why the guy’s staring at him like he’s the scum of the earth. Doesn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow.

“You planning on ignoring me, then?”

“Trying to,” he mutters, accepting the drink with a short dip of his chin. The whiskey burns on the way down, warming his chest through. Bottom shelf liquor’s too cheap to enjoy for much else. Daishou closes his eyes, “Leave me alone.”

And that stupid, suit-wearing, smug asshole laughs, and pulls out the seat next to him.

Fucking terrific.

Kuroo tuts, motioning at the bartender for a drink of his own, “Aw, c’mon. That’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?” He waits a beat for the reaction that doesn’t come, the mirth in his eyes fading somewhat, then sighs. In a more sober voice, he says, “I heard Yotsuya Motors dropped you. I’m sorry, man.”

The muscle in his jaw tightens, his knuckles turning white. Dropped was a good way of putting it. Closer to the truth than the bullshit story they’d peddled online and to the fans, the one wherein Daishou and the Yotsuya Motor Spirits had amicably reached the decision to part ways before the beginning of the new season.

‘This isn’t a position any of us want to be in, Suguru. You’re a good player, you’ve done well this past season, but you have to consider how this looks for both the team and the V League as a whole. We’re not saying you’ve done anything wrong – of course not – only that the public perception holds weight these days.’

And so it went. He’d sat there, numb, and listened for fifteen minutes while the head coach and upper management explained that him ‘voluntarily’ stepping down was in his best interest. Pretending, all the while, that they were on his side. That they for one second actually believed in his innocence.

The cowards couldn’t even look him in the eye.

None of which makes enduring his old rival’s fake fucking sympathy any easier.

“For what it’s worth,” Kuroo continues, “while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind–”

One minute, his drink is in his hand, the next, he’s hurled it against the wall behind Kuroo’s head, the glass shattering on impact, cheap whiskey sliding down the paint, and Daishou’s on his feet, chest heaving, muscles taut. Hands shaking as they flex and curl around nothing.

For once, Kuroo’s stunned into absolute silence.

The whole bar stills, a deathly quiet falling over the room. The other patrons gawk at him, wide eyed and horrified – a violent unravelling they’re eager to glut themselves on – no noise but the forgotten hum of 80’s rock drifting through the speakers.

No one breathes.

No one moves.

Daishou, shaking, trembling in the cold wake of his own dissipating rage, shudders out a strangled breath. “She’s not–” the words stick in his throat; tight, painful. He forces them out through gritted teeth, “She’s not dead.”

Kuroo, staring back at him with some inscrutable expression, says nothing. Does nothing, aside from slowly lowering his drink – still untouched – down to the bar, as though Daishou hadn’t just pitched a glass tumbler right past his head. At his head, technically.

“Out,” the bartender snaps after a tense beat, jabbing one thick finger towards the door. “Get the fuck out!”

Daishou can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears.

“She’s not dead,” he repeats, his voice hoarse.

Through all of this, it’s the one thought he won’t entertain. No matter how many times he’s hauled back into the police station, or someone recognises him from the news and the dirty looks and whispers start. No matter how much hatred and vitriol and accusations are thrown his way, that thought alone is constant.

You can’t be dead.

“Out!”

Daishou doesn’t need to be told a third time. He spares the raven haired bastard one last look on his way out, sneering, and lets the door sweep shut behind him.

The place was a shithole anyway.

And he can pretend, for a minute or two, that the churning, sick feeling eating away at his insides is the liquor, that the sheen in his eyes is purely due to the icy bite of the wind as he stumbles off in the direction of home.

Too much alcohol flooding his veins, too screwed up to register the prickling on the nape of his neck, or the footsteps that follow after him, down the narrow laneway – a shortcut he’s taken a thousand times.

When the blow comes, striking hard and fast at the back of his head, Daishou drops like a stone.

—

When Daishou was seven years old, he fell out of the tree in his backyard and broke his arm. He also managed to knock himself out – for all of about five seconds.

Long enough to scare the hell out of his parents, anyway. When he woke up, bleary and dazed, his parents hovering over him, Daishou didn’t feel any pain, not immediately. That’d come later, trying not to blubber and wail in the back seat of his dad’s car on the way to the E.R. At first, though, it was just… sort of like being shaken from a deep, deep sleep. Disorientating, more than anything else.

This isn’t like that at all.

Coming to, all Daishou can focus on is the pain in the back of his skull. His eyes are too heavy to lift, his limbs sluggish and sore. From a dry, cotton mouth, a low groan escapes him.

At first, he assumes he’s at home – lying sprawled on the bathroom floor, having hurled up his guts through the night. Wouldn’t be the first time, and considering his sorry state, he’d hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be the last, either.

“Suguru.”

Warmth. A loosening in his chest. Despite the discomfort, the sound of your voice never fails to soothe. In the weeks that you’ve been missing, Daishou’s dreamed of waking up beside you. Of rolling over and cracking an eye open to find you right there, fast asleep and curled up beside him, where you’ve always been.

Where you’ve always belonged.

You stir when his fingertips trace along your jaw, smile in that sleepy way of yours, catching his hand, keeping him there. And even in his dream, when there’s no reason for his chest to tighten, a lump to settle in his throat at the sight of you, it does.

“Suguru, listen to me!” your voice pleads.

There are other dreams, ones where you’re lying on the living room floor surrounded by a pool of blood. There’s a kitchen knife sticking out of your chest, and he’s the one holding it.

Daishou prefers the ones where you’re alive. Safe. Home with him.

“You have to wake up.”

Why? He wakes up and you disappear again. Cheek pressed to the cold bathroom tiles, sick to his stomach and head throbbing.

And you still won’t be there.

“Please.” Your voice sounds… different. Not soft and loving, not the sleep tinged murmur he usually hears. “Please, Suguru, you’ve gotta wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Daishou doesn’t want to. Pounding head or not, he’d stay in the dark with you – your voice, strained as it is – as long as his subconscious would allow. But that’s not a choice he gets to make, leaden lids slowly prying open, squinting under the influx of light.

The first day or two after you disappeared, Daishou convinced himself that despite all the evidence to the contrary, you weren’t gone gone. An accident, a miscommunication, dead phone, fuck, a fight he didn’t remember picking; he clung to any excuse, any explanation that left room for you walking through the door, sheepishly abashed over all the fuss caused.

He would’ve forgiven you – for anything.

The days passed, the cops came by, dragged him in for questioning, and Daishou started to realise that you weren’t staying with your parents, or a friend. You weren’t pissed at him for something stupid he did or said. You weren’t coming home on your own.

Which left the alternative.

People who disappear like you did; out of the blue, no warning, no trace – they don’t come back unscathed.

If they come back.

Daishou’s had weeks now to sit with that – while he drowns himself in bottom shelf whiskey and cheap beer, wallowing in his own fucking misery, you’re going through an unimaginable hell.

Blinking against the brightness, the room slowly comes into focus, his eyes adjusting, and Daishou’s heart leaps into his throat. He forgets the pain. Forgets that he’s spent weeks – months, now – thinking over every awful eventuality and drinking himself stupid in the process. All he sees is you; sitting up in bed, hair tousled, wearing an old, faded tee two sizes too big, looking the way you do in the dreams he has where you never disappeared.

“Suguru,” you gasp, the noise choked, halfway to a sob, your wobbling smile mired by the sheen of tears brimming behind your lashes.

But Daishou doesn’t see that. Doesn’t register it, not as he scrambles forward, his desperation to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re here and you’re real overriding every other sense–

Only for the cold, metal handcuffs hooked from his wrist to the broken radiator to pull taut, jerking him to a stop.

“… The fuck?” he mutters, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Experimentally, he tugs on it again.

It doesn’t budge.

Daishou swallows, mouth dry, blood running cold, and as this new, unsettling reality takes root, slowly drags his gaze from his cuffed hand back to the bed. To you, watching him with a devastation that has his heart clenching.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his subconscious sings, the warning bells tolling, and for the first time since he opened his eyes in this unfamiliar room, Daishou sees you.

The mottled marks of red and purple, fading yellow littered across your exposed collarbone, trailing along your neck. The shadows under bloodshot eyes, the pallor of your skin.

And Daishou remembers.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him through tears, the words spilling out as though you’re confessing some great, unforgivable sin. “It’s my fault, Suguru. It’s all my fault.”

His mouth opens – all that comes out is a strangled rasp of your name, which only serves to make you cry harder, shoulders shaking and a hand clamped over your lips to stifle them.

Daishou’s never wanted to wake up from a nightmare so badly. He’s never wanted so desperately to pinch himself and prove he’s not dreaming.

But at the sound of footsteps approaching, a change sweeps over you. You stiffen, freezing for the briefest of moments before you hastily set about wiping away the evidence of tears, shooting him a pleading, desperate look he doesn’t really understand.

Not until the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, and Daishou’s confronted with the man who took everything from him.

One by one, the pieces fall into place with horrifying clarity.

The bar, their ‘chance’ meeting, all that goading– ‘For what it’s worth, while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind.’

A small, insane part of him wants to laugh hysterically.

He settles for a baser instinct. Strains against the chain at his wrist, face twisted into a feral snarl, and hisses, “You fucking asshole.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle with a grin, but his attention doesn’t remain on Daishou for long. On cue, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, shoulders low and eyes glistening. “I-I’m sorry, Tetsurou,” you murmur, meek and demure.

The fucker laps it right up. Coos as he makes his way over, disregarding his other captive entirely. Two long fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. He holds you there, lets his thumb brush along your lower lip. You shiver, and that too he greedily drinks in.

He doubts very much that Kuroo’s forgotten about him, yet the way he stares at you – insatiable, a craving that goes too deep, a yearning too consuming – and you back at him, Daishou may as well have been invisible

A wave of disgust seeps through his bones, tainting his blood, curdling in his stomach – but he doesn’t look away. He can’t bear that, either.

When Kuroo finally decides to close that gap and kiss you, you don’t offer a shred of hesitation. You surrender to it, breath hitching when he catches your lip between his teeth and nips at it–

(The way you used to when he’d do the same.)

–and when he breaks away, a strand of his spit still connecting you, and moves to cup your tear stained cheek, you nuzzle into him, peppering soft little kisses to his palm.

“I know, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice a touch deeper, clearly affected by how sweetly you’re trying to pacify him. “But actions gotta have consequences. I warned you what’d happen if you brought him up again,” he pauses, and chuckles a little, “and you know I’m too much of a jealous bastard to let that kinda stuff slide.”

Hooded, hazel eyes flicker back to him, pinning him in place. The amusement in Kuroo’s face fades, leaving behind a blistering cold contempt as he regards his old high school rival.

Daishou sneers back.

“You said you loved him.”

“I don’t,” comes the immediate response. Too quick.

Kuroo scoffs. “You still mumble his damn name in your sleep. He the one you’re imagining when I’m buried inside of you, making you cum, sweetheart?”

You’re fucking right it is, you piece of shit, Daishou thinks viciously. The words themselves sit on the tip of his tongue, prideful and sharp, itching to be inflicted. Damn the consequences, he might’ve said it just to see the look on that bastard’s face – except Kuroo isn’t even looking his way. Isn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention, idly toying with a lock of your hair as if you aren’t clutching at him, eyes betraying your panic like a deer in headlights, and Daishou feels sick all over again.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“N-no, of course not!”

“No?” Kuroo’s brow arches upwards. “You sure ‘bout that?”

There’s no answer you can give that’ll convince him, yet silence proves equally damning. You seem to realise as much, mouth opening and closing as you try and fail to conjure up the right words to diffuse the situation. Kuroo offers you no out, letting you dig your own grave with the shovel he’s given you, taking some kind of sick satisfaction in your distress.

Unable to summon anything more than a choked squeak, you stretch upwards again, a delicate hand on his jaw, and kiss him. The action is desperate and clumsy, borne from panic over passion or affection. Kuroo accepts it eagerly all the same, one arm snaking around your waist to draw you closer – or rather, to keep you from slipping away ‘til he’s had his fill of your lips. “I love you,” you murmur against him. “Only you.”

Though they’re shaky, the words stand stronger than those that came before.

His nose nudges against your own, a look of contentment gracing his features. “Not yet, but we’ll get you there. On your knees, pretty girl.”

Your face crumples in dismay, lips parting only to fall shut with an audible click. As Kuroo’s grip on you loosens, you obediently slide off the bed and onto your knees.

“Arms up.”

Trembling like a leaf and looking faintly ill, you obey, letting him tug your shirt – his shirt, from the looks of it – up and over your head, carelessly tossing it aside. And though you flinch, biting down on your bottom lip, eyes glossy, burning with shame and humiliation, you don’t make a move to cover yourself.

You must know better.

His blood roars, heart thundering violently against his ribs. There’s no pretending he doesn’t see the love bites and bruises spanning your chest, nor the smug, triumphant look in that fucker’s eyes when he notices Daishou looking, his body tensed, shaking with barely contained fury.

Kuroo strokes your cheek, “Keep your eyes on me. Just you ‘n me, yeah?”

You nod. Without prompting you reach for his belt, the clinking of metal and the hiss of Kuroo’s zipper rattling in his skull, the deep, husky groan that slips from his lips when your fingers slide into his pants and curl around his cock, pulling it out.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Daishou doesn’t want to watch you kiss a trail from Kuroo’s navel down to his cock. He doesn’t want to see the way your thumb swirls along the head of his dick, smearing his pre only for your tongue to follow its path, lapping it right up.

He doesn’t wanna watch you lick your lips, lean in and suck Kuroo’s cock like a well trained slut while he palms at your tits, but between the rage and disgust and the nausea crawling up the back of his throat, Daishou’s frozen in place.

Guided by the not-so-gentle grip he has on the back of your hair, you take more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head, your other hand diligently working away at what doesn’t fit. He allows it for a minute or two, watching you try your best to take all of him with a hiss of pleasure.

Eventually, though, greed wins out. Kuroo’s hips cant forward, bucking past your lips to force his cock deeper, grazing the back of your throat. Eyes widening, you make a surprised noise and try to pull back, allow yourself a little breathing room to set a pace you're comfortable with, but Kuroo’s having none of it. He growls once in warning, grip tightening around your hair, holding you in place, and begins to fuck your face in earnest.

“That’s my good – little – whore,” he grunts, each word punched out with another cruel thrust of his hips.

The sounds of you gagging on the dick in your mouth, your choked little whines and whimpers burn through Daishou like wildfire, igniting something deep. A faint stirring in his gut he wishes, more than anything, he could smother entirely.

He doesn’t look away.

It’s only when the lack of oxygen becomes too much and you claw at Kuroo’s thighs, tears streaming down your face that he finally relents, letting you pop off his dick with a heaving gasp. With nothing else to tether you, you collapse against his legs, boneless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut.

They crack open, however, looking up when his hand comes to a rest on the crown of your head, “Say it again. I want to hear it.”

The demand takes a moment to process, but you swallow and tell him what he wants to hear. “I love you, Tetsu. More than anyone.”

He grins, lazily stroking your hair, “I know, sweetheart. Now c’mon, up on the bed. I’ve been been dreaming of your perfect little pussy all day, wanna fuck you properly.”

—

Hours pass. Half a day, a day. Maybe longer. There’s no light down here, no windows to track the path of the sun, the shadows creeping across the floor, but he can feel the endless drag of seconds and minutes ticking like a slow suffocation.

After fucking you to the edge of exhaustion, Kuroo had carried you out, cradled to his chest like something precious, and left him alone in the dark.

Left Daishou to scream and rage and cry like a fucking baby. It doesn’t help any. His bones and muscles ache, the skin of his wrist rubbed raw trying to move to a position that doesn’t scream with discomfort, the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him offering no relief. Mere feet away lies the bed Kuroo fucked you on, with its pillows and blankets, soft, plush mattress.

With his eyes adjusting to the complete lack of light, Daishou can only make out a vague shape in the darkness. In some kind of fucked up way, he decides it’s a blessing in disguise.

Being able to see the bed’s another cruelty, the promise of comfort and warmth when he’s shivering and cold and lying in his own filth, placed just out of reach. And while the thought of lying in the sheets he’d fucked you in (raped you in, a voice reminds him) makes his stomach turn, he’s not so sure that given the chance, he wouldn’t shove those thoughts aside for a soft reprieve and a few hours of rest.

Some messed up part of him wonders if the pillows and sheets still smell like you.

So no, it’s a good thing he can’t really see the bed, or the door, or much of anything, really.

Besides, it isn’t the hunger pangs or the lack of sleep or the dull, throbbing pain from his joints that bother him the most, it’s the feeling of inhaling razor blades doused in fire he’s subjected to with every shallow, rattling breath. The last taste of water he’d had… would’ve been before the bar, however long ago that was. Too long. More than a warm bed, more than food or freedom from the cuff around his wrist, Daishou thinks he’d just about kill for a single sip of water to wet his throat.

More than likely, that’s the whole fucking point.

Left to rot in the darkness, Daishou has plenty of time on his hands to think, musing over the bed in this little windowless room, and the other door he suspects must lead to a bathroom. That asshole went to some effort in getting him here, he’ll admit, but he doubts all this was solely for his benefit.

You were here when he came to; obviously he’d kept you down here, the question was for how long? Did he keep you chained up and hungry in the dark when you wouldn’t play nice? The way you’d melted for him, the affection, the goddamn look in your eyes when you’d said that bastard’s fucking name–

The fear that’d shone there when you’d said his.

Daishou knows from the depths of whatever’s left of him, that he could never, ever hate you. If he starves to death alone down here, if you’re the one to plunge a dagger into his heart yourself, if you forget all about him and buy into the delusional fucking nightmare that psychotic prick keeps peddling, he’d love you. That much is immutable.

But hatred’s too soft a word for the thorn riddled vines that sprout and twist inside of him, ripping away at muscle and flesh, choking his organs, his veins, everything that he is – because of Kuroo.

When he hears those footsteps again, the clicking of the altogether unnecessary locks, Daishou can’t help the wide grin that cracks at his face. “Was wonderin’ when you’d come back down to gloat,” he croaks, manages a laugh too, though it feels like dragging his vocal cords over sandpaper.

Having flicked the light switch on (half blinding Daishou in the process) Kuroo fixes him with a sardonic smirk. “Missing me already?”

“Hate waiting around.”

“Ah well, what can I say? I had better things to do.” His smirk broadens, a cruel glint under too bright fluorescent light as he plops himself down on the bed Daishou’s been doing his utmost to ignore and stretches out, rolling his shoulder and neck. “Prettier things.”

A stab of something dark and ugly wrenches between his ribs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits through cracked, dry lips, and before he can think better of it, adds, “Mommy didn’t love you enough, Kuroo? That what this is?”

Kuroo doesn’t snap the way he expects him to. He doesn’t lash out like he would’ve when they were hot headed teenagers desperate to grind the other into the dirt and lord it over them. The muscle in his jaw jumps and his eyes narrow, sharpen – but his expression is quick to smooth over. Water off a duck’s back. He lets out an amused snort, rising from the bed.

“Y’know, as entertaining as it was watching you self-destruct, losing your volleyball career, your fans, friends, all those nights you spent searching for her at the bottom of a bottle – and it was entertaining, believe me – I think I like this better.”

A short, sharp burst of pain. Warm copper spills over his tongue.

“You’re not gonna survive this. Even you’re smart enough to have realised that much.” He crouches down low, at eye-level, just out of reach, appraising him with a tilted head – as though Daishou’s some whimpering puppy at the pound.

Daishou’s not a fucking puppy.

“Most likely it’ll be the dehydration that kills you first,” Kuroo continues. “That only takes a few days, but with water, you could probably make it two, three weeks before your body starves itself to death – plenty of time for your muscles to begin to atrophy, which’ll be painful as hell, not to mention how bad the isolation’s gonna fuck you up. And who knows, maybe I’ll be nice and bring you something to drink every now and then, throw you some scraps from dinner. I might even let you out of those cuffs for an hour or two, so you can walk around down here, stretch those legs of yours before they completely shrivel up… But you won’t see her again, ever.”

Scowling and hateful, Daishou spits at Kuroo and bares bloody teeth.

Kuroo wants to treat him like a dog, fine – but wolves gnaw through flesh and bone to free themselves from hunting traps, and he ain’t about to just keel over with a whimper and make this easy for him.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Tension crackles through the air like an oncoming storm.

Daishou falls back against the radiator, breathing heavy and Kuroo wipes at his cheek with the pad of his thumb and huffs out a dry laugh, eyeing the bloody digit. Looking back at Daishou, he stands. “You look thirsty, I’ll go get you some water. Can’t have you croaking on us just yet.”

He’ll bite his fucking throat out if he has to.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo tetsurous x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #tw: dubcon

439 notes · View notes

sanjisboyfie · 7 months

Text

one piece smau: misc. edition

— miscellaneous :P probably pt.1 bc this is so fun to dooooo

— no romantic pairings, just the strawhats being cutie friends, male reader!!!

ー idk if the formatting is weird on desktop bc i did this all on my mobile 😭😭😭

liked by freeluffy, roro.zoro, and 8.6k others

-> ._.[name]: luffy is recycling, recycling is good for the enviornment!!! be like luffy <3

tagged: freeluffy

dni_nami: who on earth would want to be like that idiot ???

-> roro.zoro: no bc shes right

-> ._.[name]: you guys r so mean 😭😭

dr.law: im surprised there arent more bottles, u guys had the whole block awake....

-> freeluffy: we had to make five trips :DDD

-> ttchopper: FIVE TRIPS?????

-> dr.law: and when your guys' livers fail ill b there to laugh

-> ._.[name]: actin like u werent sneakin in shots of vodka :/// alright buddyyyyy

-> uso_pp: LMFOAOAO

-> SUPERCOLA: u jus got exposed

liked by ._.[name], dni_nami, and 4.6k others

uso_pp: im beggin yall to stop getting into drinking contests w zoro and nami

tagged: ._.[name]

._.[name]: naw trust next time i got em

-> uso_pp: didnt u say ts last time???

-> dni_nami: the fact he keeps thinking hes gonna win is crazy

-> ._.[name]: imma win back all my money

-> uso_pp: AND YOU BET MONEY??? ur gonna b in eternal debt [name]

princesanji: my beautiful nami is always coming out on top 😻😻😻

-> ._.[name]: who r u ???

-> princesanji: i dont interact w losers

-> dni_nami: sanji, ur the reason my username is what it is please do not test me rn

[liked by ._.[name], robinkills, and 80 others]

liked by ._.[name] and 7.3k others

robinkills: nami and i showing sanji and [name] who exactly they gotta jump

tagged: dni_name, ._.[name], princesanji

dni_nami: skank ass bitches invading a party that our friend is throwing jus to talk shit is crazy

-> ._.[name]: glad we took em outside 😋

-> princesanji: ILL FIGHT TO PROTECT YOUR REPUTATION MY QUEENS NAMI AND ROBIN - NO ONE WILL EVER DEFAME YOUR NAME IN FRONT OF ME EVER AGAIN

-> ._.[name]: one time ill agree w sanji on smth

freeluffy: no fair i wanted to come :(((

-> dni_nami: the pouting at not being involved in a fight is crazy

-> boahancock: my beautiful boy luffy i have many people you can have the pleasure of taking care of 🥰🥰🥰

uso_pp: their stupid ass bfs thinkin they stood a chance against sanji AND [name] was hilarious nglll

-> robinkills: it was over before it even started

[liked by dni_nami, princesanji, ._.[name] and 40 others]

liked by freeluffy, portgasdace, and 4.1k others

princesanji: someone donate this brokeass some money so he can buy his own packs

tagged: ._.[name]

._.[name]: HOW MANY OF MY LIGHTERS HAVE YOU STOLEN??? this is compensation

-> princesanji: stop lying i didnt steal shit from u

-> ._.[name]: I SAW MY ZIPPO ON YOUR NIGHTSTAND U FUCKING LIARR

ttchopper: smoking isnt good for u [name] :((

-> ._.[name]: suddenly i no longer like cigarettes

-> ttchopper: :DDD

-> roro.zoro: walked like a dog.

-> ._.[name]: ur just mad cuz chopper actually likes me

-> roro.zoro: im gonna kill u

-> dni_nami: chopper doesnt like either of u pls stfu

liked by robinkills, roro.zoro, dr.law and 13k others

._.[name]: my hearts <333

tagged: portgasace, freeluffy

portgasace: YALL SEE THIS im [name]'s favorite u wish u were me

-> freeluffy: i think [name] likes me the most, sorry ace!!!

-> portgasace: im beggin u to shut the fuck up

-> freeluffy: ur jus mad cus im right :DD

uso_pp: i wanna see a fight between these two over [name]

[liked by dni_nami and 50 others]

-> ._.[name]: u jus wanna see a fight mf shut up 😭😭😭

liked by dr.law, freeluffy, and 7k others

._.[name]: DAMNN PAPI ZORO GIVE ME ONE SHOT PLSLSSS 🤤🤤

tagged: roro.zoro

roro.zoro: we r never going to the gym tgt ever again im sick of ur bullshit

-> ._.[name]: can u pls come home and meet my parents i told them all abt us 🥺🥺

-> roro.zoro: i hope u die in a fire

uso_pp: unexpected couple of 2023 😱😱😱

[liked by ._.[name], robinkills, and 70 others]

._.[name]: he looks soo fionneneee

-> dni_nami: pls stop thirsting for zoro on ur main at least take it to the finsta [name] i cant stand this any longer

-> roro.zoro: how abt he jus stops in general???

-> ._.[name]: ur ltr in love w me stop being so obsessed in replying to my comments zoro 🙄🙄

-> roro.zoro: unlock ur apartment door im outside

-> ._.[name]: i feel unsafe.

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱#one piece x male reader #one piece smau #one piece modern au #one piece #zoro x male reader #nami x male reader #ace x male reader #usopp x male reader #male reader #male reader smau #smau #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #x male reader

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storywriter007 · 2 months

Text

Why Are You so Mean? - Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n walks in on rafe looking a little to intimate with his girl best friend

warnings: cursing, girl bestie, mention of drugs and drinking, toxic behavior

genre: angst

word count: 1k

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

the party music blared across the beach house. to be frank, y/n wasn't big into the party scene. she loved parties: the ones where you danced until your feet gave out, the ones where you sang your heart out to a song by kesha, and the ones where it was all about smiles and singing. not these parties: where everyone judged one another, where everyone couldn't talk without slurring their words, where everyone needed a drink, and where people upstairs were snorting lines of cocaine.

y/n was out on the balcony, looking at the beach. a beach like this, and people still just wanted to snort coke in a beach house. lame, she thought. but she was here too.

she remembered when she first met her boyfriend; rafe cameron. it was karaoke night at a local beach party. y/n and her best friend were up and they were singing "22" by the one and only, taylor swift. it was just a fun song in a fun night with fun people. y/n recalled how her hair had gotten screwed up from all the dancing she did, how her make up had all been lost, and how she smelled of seawater and vanilla perfume. she'd heard all about rafe; how he was bad news. ironically, she was singing "you look like bad news, i gotta have you" right when she made eye-contact with the snarky blonde. he winked at her and she smiled back. after that song, they took a long walk across the beach, and soon after they talked a little more, they began dating. it'd been six months now.

snapping out of her daze, y/n decided to go upstairs and rejoin rafe. she'd left, wanting to get away from the strong smell of alcohol and cocaine that tainted the house. as she opened the door to the room she'd left a few minutes earlier, she felt a punch in her gut.

there was rafe, sitting on the couch. his arm was around another girl next to him. her brown hair draped over her shoulder as rafe used his other hand to toy with her locks. sofia. his best friend, of course. y/n hadn't liked her since the minute they'd met and she'd made some sly remarks.

"you're rafe's girlfriend?" she laughed in front of you. "rebound?" she mouthed.

bitch y/n thought, recalling the memory.

topper, kelce, rafe, and sofia laughed, like y/n wasn't even there.

"rafe? no lines today?" topper laughed.

"nah, sof's convinced me to get clean." he said.

i always tell you to get clean y/n thought.

"sorry for interrupting guys. i'm just going to be leaving now." y/n finally said. "by the way, you two make a really cute couple." she fake smiled, her entire dialogue painted with obvious sarcasm and anger.

"y/n-" rafe said, moving from sofia and make his way towards her.

"no i get it. that y/n girl is such a bitch, right? she's always on your ass about getting clean and other bullshit. i wouldn't want anything to do with her either." y/n continued.

"i didn't say that-"

sofia rolled her eyes.

"have fun gentlemen." y/n smiled. "and uh, whatever you are."

y/n walked out of the house, rafe calling after her.

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

y/n stormed off to the beach. it looked beautiful in the dark. the waves crashing against the shore and the salty breeze. she took a seat on the cold sand.

she'd told rafe so many times to get clean; that it was bad for him and it was stupid. did he listen no? but leave it to sofia to say it, and he's all ears. she'd always wanted to watch dirty dancing with rafe, but did he every make the time for it? no. but did he watch the movie a week later with sofia. yes. she'd asked rafe to sing with her at karaoke night, did he? no. but as soon as y/n went to the bathroom and came back, he was singing "you belong with me" with sofia.

her train of thought was interrupted when she heard rafe calling. she blinked the tears away.

"y/n! what the hell, i've been looking all over for you!"

"you started looking for me when you couldn't occupy yourself with sofia anymore." y/n spat back. "you didn't give a single fuck about where i was. you never do, especially when sofia's there."

"that's not true-"

"karaoke night? dirty dancing? rafe, i've told you a thousand times to get clean, but you listen when sofia tells you!"

he sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

"i'm sorry sweetheart, we've just been friends-"

y/n pushed his arm off of her.

"you've been friends with her forever. i've heard the excuse a thousand fucking times."

she could see the annoyance in his eyes.

"what, you annoyed? would you be annoyed if i was sofia?"

he took a deep breath and looked at the sea. of course the mention of sofia bothered him.

"i don't remember you being this fucking annoying when we met."

"why are you so mean?" she asked, voice breaking.

"no, no, no, don't go crying now. you started this."

"you just called me 'fucking annoying.' of course i'm going to cry. and you did this by climbing all over another girl."

from a distance, y/n heard someone calling out for rafe. it was that bitch, it just had to be her. "rafe! c'mon, you're missing out. topper and kelce are so fucked up right now, it's hilarious!"

she waved to him, stopping about 20 feet away. he waved back. he looked at y/n as they both got up.

she knew he wanted to leave.

"you can go." y/n said. "but if you do so, we're over."

"what the fuck y/n! that isn't fair."

"i've got this sneaking feeling: that i'm worth half than whatever she is to you. and if you, you'll confirm what i feel like i already know." y/n spoke softly, turning to meet his blue eyes.

"whatever." he scoffed, getting up and reuniting with sofia.

he glared at y/n as he embraced sofia. y/n walked past them both, tears spilling from her eyes as soon as she'd passed them.

why was he so mean?

#angst #outerbanks #obx #pogues #kooks #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x y/n #heartbreak #toxic #rafe cameron angst

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jeansplaytoy · 10 months

Text

“Ain’t shit.” - c.springer

(part two here.)

part 1

when you and your toxic ass boyfriend, connie get into what seems to be your final argument.

mentions of cheating, cursing, n word being used, afrolatino/lightskin!connie ;), angst?, toxicity.

^y’all i have no idea why the words r bunched up if y’all see that. lmao

“don’t start wit’ that bullshit, y/n.” connie said, walking through the house while you followed him— with the bullshit.

“nah, because why everytime i go out, it’s another hoe screaming ‘bout how she fucked you whenever? you know what? i’m done wit’cho ass.” you followed him to the kitchen. it was exactly what it seemed too, everyday, another woman was talking to her friend about how connie did this and that to her, and you just wasn’t really having it.

“bro, what is you talkin’ bout? i ain’t fucked nobody since i been wit’ you.” he paused. “but you” he said, stopping by the sink and leaning on it, letting his head hang a little to huff at your words. “well that’s not what them hoes say.” you put your hands on your hips as you stood all the way across from him, on the other side of the island counter. one thing you weren’t gonna do, is let no man play you. ever. he can hit once and leave, but if a relationship comes into the picture then you take that shit seriously, and right now it seemed like his ass really didn’t care.

“you buggin.” he laughed to refrain his self from getting mad at you, but you were irking his nerves. like, for real. “oh i’m buggin’? connie, that’s what you always say when i catch you in a damn lie.” you tilt your head in a ‘wtf are you talking about’ way.

“so you gone listen to some random hoes on the street instead of me?” he crossed his arms. “yes, nigga cause’ you always doin’ something you ain’t got no business.” and that’s when you started walking over to him. his eyes followed you as he kept his attention on you. “now if i were to go around fucking on yo friends you’d be mad right?” you said before nudging his head. he rubbed the side of his head before looking at you.

“hell yeah i’d be mad, cus you always finding a way to piss me off when i don’t be doing shit to you. always believing what other females gotta say.” he shook his head before walking off. “man, stop acting like a bitch sometimes.” he mumbled under his breath while walking off.

you looked at him and narrowed your eyes. “what?”

it wasn’t like he was calling you a bitch, but that word being used in a sentence where he was referring to, and talking to you? no.

“chill out ma, you keepin’ up all that noise.” he said before sitting on the couch and propping his leg up. you stared at him for a minute before slowly nodding. “get the fuck out.” you pointed towards the door. he looked at you for a few seconds before laughing. “what?”

“i said, get out.” you repeated yourself.

connie looked at you again before his smile slowly dropped, but not into a sad face. this time, you really pissed him off. “ ‘t fuck?” he frowned. “oh, what? you don’t think i’m dead serious about what the fuck i’m saying?” you tilted your head. “since you wanna go with other bitches, go with em. go live with em. do whatever you want, we done.” you said before scoffing.

connie stared at you before standing up. “that’s yo problem. you believe everything everybody say. you too pretty to be acting this damn stupid.” he mumbled while standing in front of you. you looked towards the ground to avoid any further conversation with him.

“you think i wanna do this?” you asked. “hell yeah.” he said while tilting his head back a little. you looked up at him. “i hate yo ass. you make me sick.” you said before pushing him away from you and walking upstairs.

you weren’t being completely serious. you didn’t hate connie. but you hate how he acted everytime you got into an argument about another woman.

“how? cause you never did that crazy shit. you never went through my phone, asked about my female friends, if i even got any. but you tryna accuse me of cheating on you. ma, you know how dumb you sound?” he frowned while following you upstairs.

“connie just get out, for real.” you shook your head. “nah, what’s the problem? i thought you was all big.” he said while walking into your room where you sat on your bed. “leave me alone.” you exhaled. “and get out.”

he looked at you before nodding. “okay.” he said, grabbing only his charger as his phone was placed in his pocket. you looked at him. “get all yo’ shit, connie, you not coming back over here.” you frowned as you followed him back down the stairs. “connie, i’m so fuckin serious, get yo shit from upstairs.” you pointed behind you as you grabbed his arm to turn him around.

“i’ll come get my shit when i feel like it.” he mumbled before opening the door and slamming it behind him. you stared at it for a while before locking it and walking back over to your couch, sitting down.

“hoe.” you mumbled to yourself.

yes the theme changed!

#aot connie #connie x black reader #connie springer #connie x reader #aot x y/n #aot headcanons #connie headcanons #connie x y/n #x poc reader #poc reader #jeansplaytoy♡︎

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bingwriterxo · 10 months

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 3

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara have a study date

warnings: none

word count: 1700+

author's note: pure fluff, some fluff, and a little more fluff

previous part | next part

“Can you name three of Shakespeare’s histories, tragedies, and comedies?”

I wonder how planes fly. Like, where’s the physics in that? Tara thought as she stared blankly at the notebook in front of her, the page filled with half-assed notes about literature. And why can’t we fly? That’s bullshit.

“Tara? Are you with me?”

This mattress is really comfy. I should ask her where she got it.

“Tar?”

Tara glanced up at the sound of your voice, blushing as she realized that you had been asking her a question, which had promptly flown over her head because of how boring the topic was.

“Sorry, what was the question?” she asked sheepishly, smiling at the way you giggled.

“Three histories, three tragedies, three comedies,” you said.

She’ll be lucky if I can even name three plays in general. Tara huffed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought. “Okay, comedies: Twelfth Night, The Merchant of Venice, and…uh, The Winter’s Tale?”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed as you thought about her answer. “Twelfth Night and The Merchant of Venice, yes, but The Winter’s Tale is technically labeled as a tragicomedy nowadays.” What the fuck is a tragicomedy? Tara thought. She blinked at you, and you clicked your tongue. “I think your professor would accept that, though. Next?”

“Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, and Titus Andronicus--tragedies.” You nodded, not even sparing a glance at your own note sheet that you had pulled out to help Tara study. How does she just know this shit off the top of her head? “And histories? All of the Henry plays.”

You chuckled. “Can you be more specific?”

“No.”

“Tar, come on.” You crossed the room and sat on your bed, leaving your desk abandoned. She held her breath at your sudden closeness, your shoulder nudging against hers as you pointed at her notebook. “You have them written down.” You squinted. “I think? Tara, I can’t even read this.”

She looked down at her notes. What she had thought was legible writing was, in fact, just chicken-scratch. “Oh,” she said. “I think I was falling asleep during this lecture.” She sighed and leaned back against your pillows. “This is stupid. I’m a film major! I don’t need to know about Shakespeare or Hawthorne or the Pope!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do you mean Pope, as in Alexander Pope?”

Tara frowned. “Same difference.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.” You shook your head, giggling. “Look, I know you find literature boring--”

“Literature is the bane of my existence,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned back, and Tara tensed as you placed your head on her shoulder. Must. Stay. Perfectly. Still.

“You didn’t have to take Intro to Lit., you know. There’s a lot of other courses that could’ve fulfilled this credit.”

She grumbled. “Mindy told me to take it. She said it would be easy.” She clenched her jaw. “It’s not easy.”

A laugh erupted from your throat, shaking Tara’s frame, and a grin pulled at her lips at the sound. “Of course she would think it’s easy, Tar,” you said. “She likes literature.”

“Whatever,” she huffed.

You sat up and twisted yourself so that you could look at her, your eyes soft and smile softer. “Come on.” You pulled lamely at her arm. “We’ve gotta get back to studying.”

“Fine.” She sat up and rested her chin on your shoulder. “But I’m not happy about it.” She felt as you shivered when she spoke, her breath painting over the skin of your cheek.

Your eyes flitted down to her lips, and just when she thought you were about to lean in, you asked, “Can you explain the idea of the Blazon to me?”

She clamped her eyes shut. This girl will be the death of me. She opened her eyes, looked at the small smile that was always on your lips whenever you were around her, and sighed out, “Okay.” And I’ll gladly accept that death.

* * *

“There’s only, like, three more authors we have to go over, Tar.”

It had been nearly four hours since you had moved away from Shakespeare and onto the other works that Tara had been reading for her literature class, and it was safe to say that Tara was burned out.

“Can’t we just take a nap or something instead?” she asked. She tugged at the sleeve of your sweatshirt to pull you to lay back with her. “Or make out?”

The tips of your ears turned bright pink, and she was sure that if you were facing her, the rest of your face would be the same hue. “Shut up,” you mumbled. You looked at her, and her guess was proven correct--you were blushing all over. “We have to do Emily Dickinson.”

“Oh! Like that TV series with Hailee Steinfeld.”

Your eyes widened. “You watched that?”

She shrugged. “Some of it, but I was only paying attention to--”

“Hailee Steinfeld, of course.” You chuckled. “You didn’t listen to any of the poems, did you?”

She waved you off. “Of course I didn’t.”

You shook your head and looked down at her notes, eyebrows furrowing and a scoff pushing past your lips. “You guys didn’t even read any of her best poems,” you said. You stood suddenly, and Tara watched as you crossed the room to your backpack, pulling out a small, battered, leather-bound journal. You cracked it open. “Like, how did your professor never assign ‘I Cannot Live With You’?”

Tara shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

You cleared your throat. “‘I cannot live with you,’” you began, taking small steps toward the bed as you read. “‘It would be life--, and life is over there--, behind the shelf.’” You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still trained on your notebook. “‘The Sexton keeps the key to--, putting up, our life--his porcelain--, like a cup.’”

Tara listened as you continued to read her the poem, her heartbeat speeding up at each word that rolled off your tongue. You looked so peaceful reading poetry, like you had just made your way home after a long trip, and she gulped. Jesus Christ, she thought. Could she be any more perfect?

“��So we must meet apart--, you there--I--here--, with just the door ajar, that oceans are--and prayer--, and that white sustenance--, despair,’” you finished, glancing up at her when you were done. She was staring back at you with half-lidded eyes and her mouth slightly agape. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“You’re beautiful,” she breathed out, and you smiled, blushing again. “Can we makeout now? Because that was, like, the hottest thing ever.”

You shut your journal and threw it near Tara’s notebook. “You’re horrible,” you joked. She shrugged, like she couldn’t be blamed for wanting to pounce on you. “Since your mind is so set on kissing me, let’s turn your studying into a little game.”

Tara eyebrow’s furrowed. Why won’t she just make out with me? “A game?”

“I’ll ask you questions, and if you get them right, you’ll get a kiss,” you said. She nodded fervently and sat up, hovering over her notebook.

“Okay! I’m ready!” She glanced at you, watching as you giggled to yourself. “Also, before we start, is this entire thing”--she pointed at your journal--“filled with poems?”

You shook your head. “The back half is poems, the front half is plays and novels.”

She picked up the little book and opened it, eyes widening at your delicate handwriting detailing different plays that you wanted to read or novels that your professors suggested. She flipped to the back half, where she found pages upon pages of poems written out, some from Emily Dickinson, some from authors she had never heard of in her life.

“You’re such a nerd, you know,” she teased, putting the journal back down.

“Yeah, a nerd that’s gonna get you a passing grade on this damn midterm.” You grabbed her notebook from her, leafing through the pages before settling on a topic. “Okay, what literary period was Alexander Pope in?” you asked.

“Uh, an old one,” Tara said lamely.

You glared at her lightly. “Tar, I’m not kissing you until you get one right, so you might as well try.”

She huffed. “Fine.” Literary period? Stupid. It’s all stupid. “The Restoration?”

“Close,” you said. “Wanna try again?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly. I’d like to see her eyes rolling in a different way-- “It’s the Augustan Age. What about Jonathan Swift?”

“Oh! I know this! It’s also the Augustan Age, ‘cause he and Pope were friends.”

You tilted your head. “They weren’t really friends, but--”

“But that’s right, isn’t it? Don’t I get my kiss now?”

You chuckled at her eagerness. “You sure do.” Tara leaned forward, and she frowned when you put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “If you can name one piece that Swift wrote.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “You said you’d kiss me if I got a question right!” she whined.

“I also said I’d get you to pass this test.” You raised an eyebrow at her. “So, what did Swift write? Give me literally anything.”

Cruel Summer, Cardigan, Back to December. She shook her head. That’s Taylor Swift, stupid. Jonathan Swift, on the other hand…

“Uh, ‘A Modest Proposal’?”

You leaned forward, pressed your lips to hers, and she grinned into the kiss. Win!

“Good job, baby,” you said when you pulled away, your eyes widening when you realized the pet name that had slipped out. “I mean, uh--”

“‘Baby’, huh?” She bit her bottom lip and smiled. “I could get used to hearing you say that.”

bonus: “i got an A on my midterm!” tara exclaimed from where she sat at her desk, eyes on her laptop, which displayed the grade that had just been released.

mindy, who was scrolling through her phone on tara’s bed, jumped at the sound. “you got an A? On Intro to Lit.?”

tara grinned. “it pays having an english major for a girlfriend.”

“girlfriend?!” mindy immediately started scrambling on her phone, and tara heard her own phone buzz on her desk a minute later. she picked it up, glancing at the screen.

you :D (9:43pm): girlfriend, huh?

you :D (9:43pm): i wasn’t aware we were girlfriends yet

tara (9:44pm): hold that thought

tara twisted in her seat, eyes narrowed at mindy. “i swear to god, i am going to strangle you.”

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #scream 5 #scream 6 #museum tara

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londonharrington · 2 years

Text

i think he knows | eddie munson x fem!reader

Y/N likes Eddie. Eddie likes Y/N. Dustin doesn’t like what is happening.

notes: based on a request. henderson!reader. eddie being a cutie. dustin being annoying. part 2: paper rings

i want you, bless my soul, and i ain't gotta tell him, i think he knows

It was 7:00 pm. Y/N leaned on her car door as she waited for Dustin and Mike to come out of their Hellfire session. She thought that they’re running late again.

To be honest, the main reason why Y/N continues to volunteer to pick Dustin and his friends up at this time of night was because of Eddie Munson.

Eddie freaking Munson. Where does she begin? Despite all of the mean and spiteful things being said to him, all Y/N can see was the nice things about him. His beautiful brown eyes, unruly long hair that seems to be all over the place, his contagious laugh, and his disregard for society’s norms, which made him one hundred times more attractive to Y/N.

Suddenly, she heard loud laughing near the doors. She looked up and saw Dustin, Mike, Eddie, along with their fellow clubmates getting out of the campus premises, nudging one another whilst walking.

“Hey, Y/N! You’ve been here a while?” Dustin shouted, running up to his sister.

“No, I’ve been here for five minutes only, Dusty,” she replied, messing up his hair in the process.

“Dusty, huh?” somebody suddenly chided. Y/N was about to reply when she saw it was Eddie. Suddenly, she forgot how to speak and she started sweating profusely.

Little did she know, Eddie was feeling the same exact thing. He was sweating really hard and was trying to keep his cool in front of Y/N.

He liked her ever since they were in middle school, when Y/N chased around some of Eddie’s bullies with a baseball bat for saying stupid shit about Eddie. From then on he was hooked on her.

Eddie always struggled to be calm and keep his chill around Y/N. Always wanting to just hug her and repeatedly kiss her all over her beautiful face. But of course he needed to restraint himself. So he had to settle in longing glances and shy little smiled in passing.

Things got better in Eddie’s favor when Dustin joined Hellfire. Eddie finally had a wingman to help him with Y/N. But Dustin ultimately refused. Said that she’s way out of his league or some type of bullshit just to keep him away from Y/N.

“Can we go to dinner now?” Dustin suddenly asked, not paying attention to Eddie.

“Sure. Mike, you’re coming with us, right?” Y/N asked as Mike nodded. “How about you Eddie? Do you want to join us?”

Y/N did not know where this newfound confidence of asking him to dinner came from but she glad it suddenly came.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he also nodded his head repeatedly, making Y/N laugh as Dustin just sighed.

“I call shotgun!” Eddie suddenly shouted as he pushed Dustin to the side, leaving the boy confused and making Y/N laugh even more. Dustin flipped Eddie the bird as he got into the backseat along with Mike.

♡ ♡ ♡

“And he got nightmares for the entire week after watching The Shining!” Y/N exclaimed as Eddie and Mike laughed while Dustin just grumbled.

The four of them were done with dinner and the topic of conversation the four of them had was Dustin.

Dustin and Mike continued walking as Eddie stopped Y/N, “Hey, we should do this again sometime. You know, just the two of us,”

“Asking me on a date, Eddie?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve liked you since middle school. I even asked Dustin to set me up with you! I mean he said no,” he said laughing.

“That piece of shit. He knows I like you too. Wonder why he didn’t say anything,” Y/N said, grabbing a pen from her pocket as she grabbed Eddie’s hand, writing her number, “But I agree, we should do this again some time. Call me so we can plan this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, feeling all flustered.

Dustin looked at the window and saw the two talking. He shouted for the two to get in the car since he need to use the bathroom. The two rushed back as Dustin shook his head with a little smile on his face.

With any luck, Eddie will become Dustin’s brother-in-law. He just needs to wait.

♡ ♡ ♡

taglist in the reblog

add yourself to my taglist

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things imagine #st4 imagine

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toppersjeep · 6 months

Text

Part 3 Where Do We Go Now- Lando Norris X Reader

Masterlist

(tag list @landologg @aundercover )

Your POV

“Max” I said. “Yeah love what’s up” Max said setting his phone down. “Can I ask you a question” I said. “Yeah go on” Max said. “We’ve been together four years and I just wanna know” I said.

“Wanna know what Y/N” Max said. “Is this business or something” I said. “What do you mean by that” Max said. “You know what I’m referring to how did Red Bull get my strategy for Lando” I said. “Y/N are you seriously asking me if I took your strategy and gave it away” Max said.

“Yes Max.. I’m asking you if you took it.. because every since we’ve been together this has happened more than once..” I said yelling. “Don’t yell we are in the paddock” Max said. “What Max is everyone gonna hear how you are” I said.

“You know it’s always about Lando Norris with you and I’m sick of it” Max said. “Oh deflecting I see.. when you can’t admit what you’ve done” I said. “Do you even actually love me” I said. He didn’t say anything to me. “How can you ask that question” Max said.

“Tell me one thing you love about me” I said. “Seriously right now” Max said. “Yeah tell me” I said. “You know that I love you I don’t need to prove anything” Max said. “Then what is all of this” I said showing him two letters.

“I’ve never seen those before” Max said. “So you didn’t write me letters Max” I said. “Do I look like I have the time to do that” Max said. “You’ve always cared about your job more than me” I said. “You know you are being very selfish right now” Max said.

“Does me standing up to you bother you Max I’m tired of this bullshit” I said. “If your tired of it then you know what” Max said. “What Max say it” I said tearing up. “I’m breaking up with you I can’t handle all this stupid drama” Max said.

“Seriously” I said. “Yeah it’s over Y/N I’m tired of this blaming me because you lost .. your team sucks” Max said. “What..” I said. “You heard me clearly and you need to go” Max said. “Max” I said. “Leave Y/N go bitch somewhere else” Max said. “Go fuck yourself” I said slamming the door shut.

I then walked out of the Red Bull paddock crying. I walked through a crowd of people. Running into someone nearly knocking them over.

“Ah Gasly always running around” Carlos said. “S..sorry Carlos” I said teary eyed. “Why are you crying mi amour” Carlos said. “One of those days” I said. “Oh no no let’s go find Lando” Carlos said walking with me. We walked back to the McLaren paddock.

Lando was sitting at the table having some coffee.

“Carlos what a nice surprise mate” Lando said. “Y/N ran into me crying so” Carlos said. “Why are you upset” Lando said. “I don’t know but I figured you’d get help her” Carlos said. “Yeah come on” Lando said. We then went into his driver room.

I sat on a chair. He sat across from me.

“What’s going on” Lando said. I said nothing just sighed and sniffled. “We can just be silent too or cry you know” Lando said. “Crying is super therapeutic apparently” Lando said.

“I cry all the time too” Lando said I laughed. “There she is” Lando said cupping my cheek. “Max..” I said. “He broke up with you” Lando said. I nodded. He then pulled me into a hug. “You don’t have to say anything” Lando said rubbing my back. “I feel like I just wasted four years on him” I said.

“Sometimes people fall in love with the wrong person” Lando said. “So you’ve been in my place” I said. “Yeah I mean it sucks it really does” Lando said. “And I know that it will get better day by day” Lando said. “Now I gotta find a place to live too” I said.

“Well you can live with me I guess” Lando said. “No I couldn’t do that Lan” I said looking at him. “Listen to me I insist that you do” Lando said. “Okay fine” I said he smiled. “You know I have your back always okay” Lando said.

“Yeah thank you umm.. I should get working on your new race strategies” I said getting up. “Did you ever figure out who’s sending the gifts” Lando said. “No it’s not Max” I said. “Really he said he didn’t” Lando questioned. “I mean maybe it’s someone else in the paddock” I said.

“Could be you do have many people who like you” Lando said. “Yeah remember Charles crush on me” I said. “Yeah I do we still pick on him” Lando said. “I’ll figure it out eventually.. if you need me I’ll be in my office lan” I said walking out.

I went to my office. I tried to work on these racing strategies for Lando. But part of me wanted to know who was writing these letters. And giving me gifts. I looked at the second letter again for clues.

The second letter:

Dear Y/N, have I ever told you how beautiful you look everyday even when you aren’t trying. You are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. And one of the kindest people. I hate how people assume you can’t do your job because your a woman in this field. If I’m being honest you are the best at it better than any man. In fact I think you could out race me with all your strategies that you have. You are one of the smartest people too. It amazes me the things you know. I could listen to you talk for hours on end. I love your voice and french accent. I especially love your laugh and how I can make you laugh at any given moment. I’ve said it before but I wish you could see yourself in my eyes. Only then would you realize how special you are.

___

So they know that I race. And they know they I am a race strategist. But I don’t tell many people about these strategies. Only Lando and Oscar.

But it can’t be Oscar because he has a girlfriend. Well at least last I knew he did. But it could be Charles because he’s asked me for help before.

“What are you working on chéri” Charles said walking into my office. “Trying to figure out a mystery” I said. “What’s the mystery” Charles said sitting across from me. “I’ve been getting these love letters I know it sounds silly” I said he smiled.

“Love letters that’s really romantic” Charles said. “It’s not Max and well we broke up” I said. “You did” Charles said. “Yeah well that’s not the point Cha” I said. “These the letters” he said looking at them. “Yes I just can’t figure out who it is” I said.

“Whoever this is they are clearly in love with you” Charles said. “It’s not you” I said. “I mean I like you but I’d take you out.. not do all this” Charles said. “Oh” I said. “Sorry to ruin your fantasies but it’s not me” Charles said.

“Well then it’s down to two people I guess” I said. “Can I say something” Charles said. “Yeah” I said. “This person is closer to you than you think” Charles said. “What do you mean” I said.

“I’m saying the person who wrote these is someone who’s always there” Charles said. “Someone who’s always watching” Charles added. “What are you saying” I said. “Chéri… look around you.. and figure it out” Charles said setting the letters down.

“Are you saying” I said he looked at me and smiled. “I’m saying that this guy would do anything for you.. and he always has” Charles said leaving the room. And that left me to think.

There was only one person that I know who’d literally do anything for me. And he’d do anything to keep me happy.

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