#i spend time doing this instead of doing my work(?
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happy gojo fluff friday i guess. gojo x f!reader. established relationship, self indulgent crafting fluff, reader is teaches the second years. | divider by cafekitsune, wc 1.4k, reading time 5 mins 17 seconds
“I used to make these all the time, remember?”
Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you in your living room, you hold up a bundle of braided twine bracelets, a rainbow of colors with assorted charms attached to them. Little plastic seashells on the blue one, flowers dotting the green one.
Satoru remembers, he still has the one you made him in your first year. It feels like a lifetime ago that six teenagers had vaguely matching mementos they wore showing their unity as a group, yourself and your fellow first years Nanami and Haibara and of course himself and his friends.
“Blue seems cliche,” you opined at the time with a raised brow, a pink cheeked seventeen year old Gojo staring back at you anxiously. His crush had bloomed by then although you pretended to be oblivious to it. “How about pink instead?”
He has never been able to tell you no so he nodded, keeping his mouth screwed shut while you worked. Pink he received, so bright it almost hurt his eyes to wear it back then. You attached a little smiley face charm right in the middle, affixing it around his wrist. He wore it every day until it began to unravel, safely kept in a small lockbox in the back of his closet.
The same box that contains most of the memories you’ve given him, the photos, the cards, the trinkets, and the ones the two of you have yet to make including that pesky engagement ring he can never seem to figure out the right time to give you.
“I might take it to school with me tomorrow just to see what the kids think.”
Two big hands make their way to your bent thighs and you smile, still digging through the box in your lap. Beads, closures, all the stuff you used to pride yourself on keeping tidy and neat. You glance up at him, that same smile on your face.
“Let me make you a new one since I have all this stuff out.”
You dig through the box for a minute more, squinting and making a show of exaggeratedly humming. Leaning in toward him, you hold colored embroidery floss up to his face to compare it to the shades of his eyes, the unforgettable feature that they are. One bundle of floss is too green, the other is too yellow.
“What do you think the kids will say?” He asks, watching each of your movements raptly. Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth when you concentrate, an adorable habit you’ve maintained in all of the years he’s known you, and you sit back on your haunches for a moment, hands on your thighs.
Yet another adorable habit.
He reaches to grab your arm, gently rubbing his thumb along the inside of it. You smile at the touch and ponder what your students will truly think if you bring this to them. It’s a bit of a dated hobby compared to the luxury of choice teenagers have now and you laugh to yourself, shaking your head.
“Well, Maki will probably say you’re rubbing off on me since I don’t bother to teach anymore and call it stupid to my face.” Satoru chuckles, watching through his lashes while you spring back into action, reaching behind you to grab a few more bundles of blue. “Inumaki will probably spell something inappropriate in English if I bring the letter beads. Panda will ask me to make each of them a matching bracelet because he’s sweet and will request that I make one for Yuuta to have when he gets back, too.”
Looking at the latest bounty recovered from the little tackle box that stores the trinkets required for this, you gasp. Cerulean with a deep blue sparkle woven through the strands.
I’ll save this for something special some day, you told yourself more than a decade ago, spending your student stipend in some fancy embroidery shop in Nippori. Yen exchanged for fancy thread, dotted with glitter or metallic coating. You had no idea. Maybe you even bought it back then hoping a day where you’d be able to compare it to Satoru’s eyes would arrive, subconsciously laying the tracks for your own future.
“It’s a perfect match.”
The grin on your face is mirrored by your love who reaches around your body to grab from the twine selection himself. A handful of colors that match your eyes sit across his large palm and he glances down at the collection, mimicking your previous attempts to find something that screamed “him”.
“What are you doing?” The question is a half joke but you let him hum to himself, raising one bundle and then another to compare them. “Well, I didn’t make you one back then because I thought I was too cool,” he blinks at you, making you giggle. “I was right, of course, but there’s no time like the present, right?”
Nodding your agreement, you remove the paper from around the twine and shake it out. You’ll need some coordinating colors so you dig back through the bundles in front of you, sticking them against his face again.
“I still have the one you made me, by the way.”
Scoffing, you roll your eyes and use your index finger to poke around in the bead compartment, searching for the perfect one for your newest creation.
“Don’t lie, I can always tell.” Satoru grabs your hand delicately although your fingers are still holding various crafting supplies and raises it to his lips, gently kissing your wrist. You are very attentive to the little things about him and likely noticed when he finally stopped wearing it, several years after it was first made. “I’m not lying. I had to stop wearing it because it was unweaving and I didn’t want to lose it forever.”
You feel guilty for the accusation and lean in toward him, kissing the tip of his nose, claiming your hand back from his grasp to begin braiding twine together into a pattern.
“I can always re-make it if you’d rather have a pink one,” you offer, braiding together various shades of blue in your lap without looking down. “I can wear this one.”
Smiling softly, he looks at you, then the bundle of your eye colored twine in his own hand.
“You wear the blue one and I’ll make one that matches you to wear myself, how about that?”
Nodding, you let the conversation fall quiet while he unbundles his own selections, fingers deftly separating and joining three strands, just the way you tried to teach him years ago when you assumed he didn’t care. He has always paid far more attention to you than you’ve realized and you’ve given him a lot to study over the last ten or so years.
“I think you should leave this at home,” he admits. It’s selfish but he doesn’t want to see you share this precious memory with your students who may not even appreciate it. He wants to sit cross legged on the living floor with you, making little friendship bracelets that will eventually unravel or fade or snap, for the rest of his life. He wants to make them for your children someday, matching bracelets with mom and dad. He wants to keep this, to keep you, all to himself.
“Okay. It’s probably for the best anyway, I don’t need to give them one more thing to give me shit about.”
Satoru leans toward you and kisses your forehead right as you’re finishing the blue bracelet. He looks down, tying and knotting it around your wrist, remembering when you did the same for him so long ago.
“Looks good.” His words catch your eye and you smile up at him, looking between his eyes and the bracelet wrapped around your wrist. It is an uncanny match and you’re proud of your own eye for color though your pride is stopped in its tracks when he sticks out his wrist, bracelet pinched between two of his fingers and dangling from his hand. “Would you mind?”
You do as he did for you, as you’ve done for him before, with softness in your eyes it would be impossible to hide.
“Not bad,” you compliment and he shrugs with a chuckle. “Obviously. I even think mine is the better of the two.”
Letting your hand rest in his lap, next to his, the hastily made bracelets sit one next to the other on each of your bodies. His eyes follow yours and he weaves your fingers together, thumb gently rubbing the thickest part of your palm.
It’ll always be the two of you, a perfectly matched set, no matter what.
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harry brings his girlfriend home to meet his family but it does not go as planned
word count: 5896
a/n: enjoy this story inspired by a lovely anon. happy reading, my sweet friends 💜
+
Y/N was nervous.
She squeezed Harry’s hand, trying to ground herself, but it seemed to transport her to the first time they met at the diner down the street from her apartment.
Going to university in Los Angeles wasn’t glamorous, not when she had endless bills to pay to keep a roof over her head. She had gone to Martha’s Cakes, a small diner ten minutes from her apartment that served the best hot chocolate. The food was good too but the hot chocolate is what she ordered each visit without fail. It’s a place she’d eat when Y/N had a bit of extra to spend on herself. Instead of buying herself new shoes, or another jelly cat bag charm (Otto, the sausage dog, went everywhere with her) she decided on eating a good meal that didn’t consist of ramen or buttered noodles. She came here when she needed a pick me up or simply wanted to have a nice conversation. It was a late Tuesday in the Spring. Where the sun took longer to come down, allowing her extra time at the bar to do assignments and chat with Antonio about the best produce sales. Y/N had her head down working on an essay due two weeks from now. It was based on one of Los Angeles buildings; it could be based on the oldest church to the Dodger Stadium. Y/N decided on the Avila Adobe residence. Known as the oldest standing residence in the City of Los Angeles. Olvera St. was a famous street and was filled with history. It was one of her favorite places to walk through.
As she was looking through photos, taking notes of significant dates, a patron sat next to her. Y/N didn’t bother seeing who it was, simply scooting her scattered papers closer to her, tucking a few under her laptop.
“It’s not bothering me.” A man spoke.
It startled Y/N only because he had a deep British voice. It felt odd to be hearing in such an unknown area.
“Darla would throw coffee on it if she saw I was bothering a customer.”
“I said it’s okay.”
Y/N laughs. “She would say it wasn’t.”
It seems the man lets it drop as he has nothing to reply. Y/N keeps up with updating her notes as she hears the man order a stack of the lemon poppy pancakes. Those were her favorite, Y/N would get them when she was having a bad day because it would without a fail make her smile. Y/N worked in silence over the next half hour when she felt the need to step to the restroom. Y/N did not want to pack up. Usually she asks a staff member to watch her items, but the diner seemed to be a bit busier. She looked around and her eyes landed on the pancake guy who had his headphones on. She hated bothering people, but he looked kind enough.
Y/N tapped next to his plate to get his attention. It worked because in seconds he slipped off his headphones and had turned his whole body to look at her. It gave her the chance to look at him fully for the first time. He had a buzz cut, and it looked really good. He had slight stubble, but what captured her attention were his bright jade eyes. It felt like he was staring deep into her soul.
“Do–uh–Would you please watch my stuff? I have to use the ladies’ room.”
“Course. Guard it with my life.”
Y/N thanked him and hurried away. When she came back, the man had slightly shifted over, his eyes staring intently at the dark screen of her laptop.
“Thank you,” she shot him a smile. Waking up her screen and getting back to her assignment, except she couldn’t get the man out of her head.
The dimples were something she focused on when he smiled, telling her it was no problem. Then his green eyes were so beautiful she felt she had seen them before. Though she could swear she had never met him before. She did have a weird feeling she had seen him before. Once it hit eight o’clock, Y/N knew it was time to call it. Y/N had her rough draft ready and could continue tomorrow. For now, she’d walk home and take a bath to wash away today’s day.
Y/N was packing up and could see the green-eyed gentleman was too. She would hate herself if she didn’t ask him where she knew him from, if she knew him. Y/N had her bag strapped on her shoulder and turned to him for the last time.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He turned, as if he was waiting to hear from her. “Yes?”
“How do I know you?”
The man’s smile dropped. He looked confused, so she didn’t know him.
“Don’t think we’ve met, until today, Y/N.”
Y/N’s frown deepens. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
He pointed to her bag. She looks down at the red stitching displaying her name. Well, now she looked dumb. Of course, he could read. “You look familiar to me. Sorry if that’s weird.”
The guy clears his throat, shaking his head. “I get that a lot.”
That’s odd, Y/N thought.
“I feel like I know you,” she tried one last time.
“Promise we don’t know each other. I would remember someone as beautiful as you.”
Y/N’s jaw dropped (not literally), but her face felt warm. Fuck, she was not expecting this turn of event. “Ha, uh. I want to say me too, but uh, there’s something familiar about you.”
Harry chuckles as if he knows something she doesn’t.
“Can I walk you out?” He asks.
She nods. He leaves a large tip and follows her to the exit. Y/N ways to Sonia, who shoots her thumbs up, but Y/N has no idea why. Y/N and the man linger outside the door, waiting to see who makes the first move.
“Well, uh, can I have your Instagram?” Y/N asks, not knowing if asking for his number was too forward. At least this way she could stalk him for a bit.
“Oh, I don’t use that. I can give you my number,” he counters.
Y/N perks up. “That works.” She hands him her phone where she watches his hands type in his phone number into her contacts. He hands her back her phone, and she looks at the newly added contact.
Harry S.
It seemed that’s all she needed for her to connect the dots. She lifts her head up and Harry has a flushed face. He didn’t look away from her, almost waiting to see what she’d say.
Y/N not sure how to break the silence. “Harry Sanchez?”
Harry laughs, and it’s all the confirmation Y/N needs. “More like Styles.”
“Oh.”
Did she fuck up her chances? She feels like she didn’t. She got his number.
“What can I use your number for?” She asks, wanting to double check. He still wants her to have it.
“Hopefully for us to plan a date.”
“Even after this,” she points between them as if to explain what they know just happened.
“I’d like to see where it could go.”
“Shit, uh. Well–I’m free Thursday.” Harry smirks, making her want to crawl in a hole because now she feels desperate. “I’m going to leave.”
Harry stops her by grabbing her hand. “I think Thursday is perfect. Are you up for a sunset dinner by the beach?”
“Sounds perfect,” she promised him.
“Good. Thursday it is.”
Now she is standing in front of his childhood home, about to meet his mother and older sister. Y/N had spoken to his mother, Anne, on the phone a few times, but his sister was always busy when Harry tried to pass her the phone. Harry promised her it would go well, but she feared the worst. Their story was genuine but to others could sound fabricated but come on, no one knows Martha’s cakes, it’s not even on Yelp. It’s a place once stumbled upon and then shares the magic with people in their life.
Harry said he felt like coffee and walked for a while until he saw people walk out. The smell of coffee is what drew him in, but the pretty girl he sat next to had him stay for hours. It’s something he shared months down the line. Y/N and Harry had now been together for nine months. Because of her Master’s Y/N had no time to travel. Harry visited home often, but Y/N couldn’t drop everything she was doing to go with him. He understood, but she felt his family wouldn’t. Harry met her dad and twin brothers six months into dating because they lived down in San Diego, only a two-hour drive from them. While Harry’s family lived an ocean away and she refused for him to pay for her flight to London. On top of that, she had classes and exams to worry about that did not allow her to hop on a flight for a week. Thankfully, she made it through the winter semester and had a few weeks off from her internship before going back for her last semester. Y/N knew graduation was just around the corner, and thankfully, had little debt to pay off.
Harry held her tight as he led her up the steps. Y/N was walking slower, trying to prolong the introduction. In her mind, she hoped she was simply psyching herself out and that things actually went well with Harry’s family. That they accepted her because they could see how much she loved him.
“You ready, Lovie?” Harry flashed her a dimpled grin.
Truthfully, she wanted to say no, but Y/N couldn’t do that to him. Not when he was bouncing with excitement. “Ready.” She confirmed.
Harry gave two loud knocks and then opened the front door. Y/N stood behind him as he rushed to embrace his mother. Anne was a sweet woman, much shorter than Harry, but by the tight embrace she held Harry, Y/N could tell she was strong.
Anne gave Harry two big kisses, one on each cheek, before turning her attention to Y/N.
“Y/N!” Anne cheered. She said it with so much delight, it surprised Y/N.
In a matter of seconds, someone tightly wrapped Y/N in a hug, which she quickly reciprocated. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Twist.”
Anne waved her off. “Call me Anne, my dear.”
“Anne,” Y/N repeated.
“Now come in and tell me all about the trip. Did he trick you into going to that fancy lounge where you get free food?” Y/N giggled because Harry indeed took her to a fancy lounge when he said he was taking her to get a smoothie.
Y/N spared a smile at Harry, but it was quick to fall when Y/N met another pair of eyes in the kitchen, looking at her with an intense stare. It dropped quickly because her attention shifted to Harry. Y/N focused back on Anne, trying to brush off the moment as something she imagined.
Y/N tried her best to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. There was no need to worry. Harry talked about wonderful things about his family. She was in safe hands. At least that’s what she kept reminding herself.
+
Y/N didn’t feel welcome. Anne was a gem, but Gemma was cold and looked bored whenever Y/N said a word. Y/N wondered if Harry picked up on it. He hadn’t said a word. Harry was home and had no time to deal with Y/N’s insecurities. She had to be reading into Gemma, not liking her. Harry spoke the world of his older sister. He said she was his best friend, someone whose opinion he valued. Fear struck her. If Gemma didn’t like her after this visit, she knew that as soon as she got on that plane to go home, Harry would be breaking up with her. At least she’d had several hours to cry about on the plane pathetically.
“There’s no way she didn’t know who you were,” Gemma scoffed, unbelieving of their story.
Harry brushed off her comment as if she said nothing. “Gem, I was bald.”
“Your face didn’t change.”
Harry sighs, “no, but you did a double take when I showed up to your doorstep to show you.”
Gemma frowns, knowing he was right. “Whatever, you were all over twitter.”
Harry is beginning to pick up on his sister’s defense and knows to drop it but will be picking it up with her later. “Anyway. Sitting next to each other, she asked me to watch her stuff when she had to use the restroom.”
“To look you up,” Gemma coughs.
Y/N fidgets in her chair, wanting to be anywhere but here. Harry continues with his story. “She thanked me and went back to her work. Before she left, Y/N asked if we knew each other, but I told her we didn’t. I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as her.”
“Charming,” Anne gloats. “My charming boy.”
Harry finished the story, stating it was meant to be. He had loved spending the time in Los Angeles getting to see the city through Y/N’s eyes. It’s a city she’s been living in for a couple of years. There was a lot for her to share with him. Harry had taken a liking to her favorite coffee shop. It had a design resembling a greenhouse and filled with plants, mainly featuring dried lavender. Truthfully, he spent a lot of time there because it was Y/N’s preferred place to study because it never got busy. Y/N called it her hidden gem.
“I’ve never been happier,” Harry shares. Y/N beams at his words but can’t help glancing at Gemma, who can’t help but look sick to her stomach at hearing this news.
Dinner passed dreadfully slowly. Y/N comments when she needs to but honestly hopes to disappear for the night soon, no longer wanting to burden Gemma with her presence. While Anne showed Y/N where she could freshen up, Harry stayed downstairs to share a nightcap with his sister.
Anne comes back to join them, but Gemma bites her tongue until their mother bids them goodnight. Harry gives his mother a tight embrace, commenting on how much he missed her. Gemma was happy her younger brother was home.
“Are you happy, Harry?” Gemma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.
Harry sighs, “never been happier.”
Gemma frowns, because she believes him. “I-I-nevermind.”
Harry frowns because Gemma is never someone to stop herself from saying what’s on her mind. “Hey,” he places his hand on top of hers. “It’s me. Your annoying younger brother, you can tell me anything.”
She removes her hand from under his and places them on her lap. “I don’t think she’s right for you.”
Harry sits back, surprised. “Sorry?”
“It’s clear she’s after something.”
He’s having a hard time believing his sister. “Like what?”
“Your money.”
“Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, baffled.
“No. That’s why I’m telling you. She’s after one thing.”
“How would you know?”
“Come on,” Gemma scoffs. “She goes to a prestigious school with a cost that no one could afford. It’s clear she wants you to pay for it.”
“Gemma, I met her during her last year.”
“Debt doesn’t go away overnight,” she fights back. “She’ll get you to pay off her loans and leave you.”
Harry’s anger is overwhelming him.
“You don’t even know her. Yet you say bad things about her.” It shuts Gemma up, and he uses that to his advantage and walks away.
“We saw the donation you made,” Gemma comments before he can make it up the stairs.
He turns back, trying his best to swallow down his anger. “If you would have asked me, you would know it’s for the music program. I did that for several universities if you would have taken the time to do a bit more research. It grants them a scholarship, plus pays for room and board.”
Gemma has no response. Harry is now standing in front of her and Gemma is nervous. She had never seen her brother this upset.
“What I do with my money is my problem. If she wanted me to send her money for a new car, I would. If she wanted me to buy her a piece of land, I would do it in a blink of an eye. If Y/N asked me to give her every last dime in my account, I would do it without a second thought because I love her. I love her and she loves me. You know, five minutes is not enough to judge her. I do not have to tell you of her financial issues, but I will so you can go home tonight and sleep knowing how upset I am with you. Y/N received the presidential scholarship covering her tuition for the three years she was there. Y/N has applied to hundreds of scholarships to cover her book fees, and has to take on an unpaid internship while working 40 hours a week to cover her rent. Y/N has not accepted a single dime from me for her school because she has gotten this far without me. Y/N only lets me pay for her seven dollar coffee every other day. Y/N would rather give every last dollar to me if I needed it instead of keeping it for herself. Y/N still sends money to her twin brothers for new shoes, or new backpacks, because she loves her family.”
Harry is near tears but keeps going. “I love Y/N. You might not, maybe you never will, but that girl has been the best thing to happen to me. I’ve never been more cared for and loved since she entered my life. So please, don’t bother coming back tomorrow or the rest of the week unless you have an apology for her.”
Y/N is grateful Harry’s room connects to the bathroom because, while she finished getting ready, she thought she would ask Harry for a cup of water and instead stumbled upon a conversation she shouldn’t have. Y/N tries her best to swallow her tears, but it’s no use. They’re more powerful than her. They stream down and Y/N decides to lie in bed, hoping by the time Harry comes in, she’s fast asleep. Y/N isn’t sure how much time has passed, but her tears have dried up and she’s as still as a rock when she hears Harry come in. She wants to tell him that she’s not worth defending if it means he’s messing up his relationship with his sister.
She hears him get ready for bed. Y/N knows he’s folding his clothes and placing them on the chair. He’s meticulous about his night-time routine. He crawls into bed next to her. Y/N tries her best to steal her breathing to make it seem like she’s sleeping, but Harry knows her too well. He scoots right behind her, his hand sliding over her hips and settling on her stomach, right by the scar she got on her eight birthday when she fell off her bike. Harry rubs the lifted skin, where she got four stitches.
Y/N lets out a deep breath, working up the courage to say something, but her throat is closed. She relaxes against him. All her tears dried up. She is beginning to feel better now that she’s with him. A kiss to her temple has her heart slowing down. This is what it is to be protected.
“I’m sorry,” Y/N croaks out when she feels like enough time has passed.
Harry pulls her tight against him. It fills her with ease. “How much did you hear?”
Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t want you to argue with your family.”
“It’s only my sister,” he defends.
“She’s an important person in your life. You’ve always specified that.”
Harry sighs. He leaves a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “You are important to me, too.”
“You don’t need to be fighting. It’s not necessary.”
“It is when she needs a wack to her head.”
“Harry,” Y/N drags out. “I don’t want you burning bridges.”
Harry understood where she was coming from, but Y/N was not seeing how it affected him as well. “We’ll be fine. She’s my sister. We’ll talk in a few days. All this will be in the past.”
Y/N freezes, feeling as if someone dropped a cold bucket of water on her. If Harry believes everything will be alright with his sister, that means he sees himself forgiving her for what she said but also means he would be getting rid of the problem. Her.
Harry was going to be breaking up with her. This started her tears to fall again, only this time she couldn’t keep quiet. They were pouring out of her at a quick rate. He was quick to sit up bringing Y/N with him.
“Hey, hey,” Harry cooed. “What happened? What did I do?”
“Y-y-you,” she stuttered. Nothing was coming out.
He would not rush her. Instead, he shifted her to straddle his lap. Y/N tucked her head into his neck. Hary felt his neck dampen with tears. He pressed soft kisses to her hair, whispering “I love you,” hoping it would be enough to calm her. He snaked a hand under her night shirt softly running his nails up and down her back. Y/N curled in closer at the action. His sweet girl was feeling overwhelmed, and he felt awful because he wasn’t being helpful.
Y/N pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry still thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hands moved from her side up to his neck, she settled them on his cheek. She caressed his face, calming him down. He hadn’t realized how overwhelmed he was, but it’s clear Y/N could see what he needed even in her moments of sadness.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N voiced. “I love you. I love you so much.”
Harry frowned. No one had said anything about him leaving. He would never dream of walking away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But Gemma–”
He cuts her off. “Gemma doesn’t know you like I do. She is looking out for me and I know she meant no harm, but she went about all this wrong. She decided to judge us, judge you before getting to know you.”
Y/N did no wrong. She was nothing Gemma accused her of. Y/N knew that, of course she did, but Y/N hoped to impress his family, not make them upset.
“I know you, Lovie. My mum knows you. Mostly, you know yourself. Your character speaks for you and it has never been anything but kind and loving.”
Harry’s words slowly begin to mend her heart.
“I love you, Harry.”
He connects his lips with hers in a loving kiss. “I love you so much.”
Y/N falls asleep to Harry’s voice as he sings her to sleep. It’s a lullaby he says his mum would sing when he had a nightmare. While Y/N didn’t know how tomorrow would go, she was happy to have Harry at her side.
+
The morning passed slowly between the three of them. They shared stories with Anne, Harry, catching her up on his upcoming plans. Y/N talked about her looming graduation and told Anne about her thesis project. Anne promised to make the trip for her graduation, something Harry couldn’t stop gloating about how she was top of her class on her way to graduate summa cum laude. Y/N had stepped outside wanting to enjoy all the open land Anne had. The cats happily roamed around Y/N as she settled in the grass. Y/N thought of her dad at home and what he’d have to say about the situation. He’d probably tell her to run while she could, but Y/N knew Harry was her person. Y/N laid down, closed her eyes and took in all the surrounding noise. She heard birds chirping, a purring in the distance and the rush of the wind hitting the wind chimes. It was perfect.
There was a loud band that had Y/N sitting up in a hurry. She looked back and realized it was the back door. Anne had stepped out, Y/N could see Harry in the kitchen, hands moving rapidly, and she knew he wasn’t alone. Anne sat not to Y/N, neither of them saying a word.
“My daughter owes you an apology.”
“Anne–”
She stops Y/N. “No, I raised her better than that. I’m not sure when she got so protective, but it’s clearly not for the best. Harry is nearing 30 he doesn’t need his sister looking out for him. While I’m glad they have each other, this was unnecessary. It caused a lot of hurt that should have never existed.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to talk to her if you’re not comfortable.”
Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She dreaded talking to Gemma, but Y/N knew she’d feel worse if she went home and never talked this out with her. “I’m willing. I-I might need time to forgive her.”
Anne squeezed Y/N’s hand. “That’s perfectly alright. Now tell me about these brothers of yours.”
Y/N spent the rest of the evening with Anne, forgetting about her problems. It isn’t until Harry called them both in for dinner that they realized they spent hours outside.
Harry greeted her with a kiss.
Dinner went off without a hitch, the three of them sharing all kinds of stories. Mostly Harry interrupting Anne to tell her a new story about Y/N he remembered. Harry that night promised he was alright with Gemma. He was feeling hurt. Assured her he loved her, but needed time to move past it.
Y/N woke up early the next morning and decided to go on a walk along the river. Harry told her it felt never ending. They had walked it once every day, but today she went alone, letting Harry sleep in but also have that extra time with Anne. As Y/N walked, she thought of her brothers and how they would love to be throwing rocks in the river. Y/N was sure one of them would even fall in on accident. The weather would pique her dad’s interest. He was a sunshine man. She was sure the gloomy weather would be too much for him to handle.
Two hours later, Y/N came back and was taken aback by Gemma’s presence on the front steps of the house, holding a thermal mug.
“Hi,” Y/N greeted.
“Morning, nice walk?” Gemma asked.
Small talk. It was safe. “Mhm, Harry showed me the trail he liked to walk on.”
“Mmm…coffee?” Gemma offered.
“Uh, I’m okay,” Y/N rejected.
Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”
Y/N nodded. “Sure.”
Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words.
“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”
Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.
“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her.
Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”
“That hasn’t been him for a long time.”
“I know.”
It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready.
“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.”
Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.”
“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.”
“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully.
Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.”
“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.”
Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades.
“Morning, pretty girl.”
Gemma looked dejected, but continued on. “Do-Is it okay if we talk?”
Y/N nodded. “Sure.”
Y/N approached Gemma sitting on the opposite end of the same step. She wouldn’t be the first to talk, but it looked like Gemma was figuring out her words.
“I’m sorry” are Gemma’s first words. “I’m sorry talking about you behind your back, even more sorry that you overheard.” Gemma looks sincere, and Y/N nods for her to continue. “I love Harry. He’s the best brother, and a person in general. He cares so much that I fear he’s gotten screwed over so much in life because he trusts with his heart and not his head.”
Y/N frowns, because that’s one of the things she loves most about Harry. How welcoming he is with his kind nature and how much love he spreads every day whether it’s through his music or holding the door open for a stranger. It all adds up to show that he’s a person full of love.
“Those are his mistakes to make. His own hurt to go through. Life isn’t all sunshine.” Y/N tells her.
Gemma sighs heavily. “I know. Sometimes I feel like he’s still the same kid who cried when I would go out without him.”
“That hasn’t been him for a long time.”
“I know.”
It’s clear Gemma has something deeper than she has to figure out and talk with Harry about, but it seems that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she is ready.
“I love Harry. I think we have a wonderful relationship.” Y/N knows Gemma might not want to hear this, but it is important he does. “Harry loves communication. I swear we’ve never had an argument that didn’t end in us making up. He gives me my space but makes sure to be near. I’m reminded of his love every second of every day, whether he’s with me or not. I’m not sure if I make him feel loved every minute, but I do my best to remind him in my actions and words. I’m big on writing notes. He’s received a few love letters. I’m sure he’d show you if you asked.” Gemma tries her best to hide her surprise, but it’s written all over her face. “I’ve only heard wonderful stories about you, Gemma. I’m sure they’re all true, but I know Harry thought we might become friends.” Y/N pauses. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I do want you to know I respect you. For however long I’m around, I know that I respect you, even if it might take some time for me to trust you.”
Gemma has tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I never provided you with an opportunity. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I am really sorry. Meeting the family is always hard, and I fucking ruined it.”
“It’s not okay, but we’ll give it time. Time heals.”
“Thank you for hearing me out.” Gemma tells her gratefully.
Y/N smiles. “Are you joining us for breakfast? Harry promised to make lemon ricotta pancakes.”
“I’d like that. I’ll head in soon. I want to finish my coffee.”
Y/N heads inside, where she finds Harry at the stove wearing an apron. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades.
“Morning, pretty girl.”
“Hi, Harry. I love you.”
Y/N knows he’s grinning. “I love you too. Even if you left me alone this morning.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she defends. “You always told me a morning walk here cleared your head.”
“And did it?”
“Mmm…like magic.”
“Are you okay, Lovie?” Harry turns off the stove. He turns around, setting his hands on Y/N’s waist. His hair makes her laugh as she sees it sticking in different directions.
“We talked. She apologized. Promise I’m okay. It still hurts, but I’ll try my best to forgive her for you.”
Harry tuts his tongue. “No, honey.” Y/N tilts her head, confused. “You don’t have to do this for me.”
“But she’s your–”
“She’s my sister, but that doesn’t mean you have to change how you feel about me. I promise I am with you. She made a mistake, and I’ll forgive her but at my own time. You take your time as well.”
Y/N feels overwhelmed all over again because she really did get lucky with Harry. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more, my love. So much more.”
Harry gives her a kiss. A promise that everything will be alright.
+
thank you for reading my beautiful friends! let me know your favorite parts
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles angst#harry styles story#harry styles fluff#harry styles x y/n#harry styles angst story#harry styles fic rec#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction
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read 'em and weep #5
you're acting weird. Eddie decides to do something about it.
Chapter 5
Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series
Read Ch. 4 -> Here!
Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff & angst, romantic gestures, idiots in love, communication breakthrough, shy babies working out some kinks. No mention of reader's appearance, no use of y/n.
Warnings: Discussion of Eddie's past, mentions of poverty, drug use, allusion to violence. Mentions of food & eating.
Word Count: 4.5k
sometimes I think I make him too soft in this series, but I can't help myself. are you guys tired of lovesick!eddie yet???
Eddie wakes up late on Sunday — it’s well after noon when he rises from bed with a sticky yawn in his throat and sleep in his eyes. In his rumpled t-shirt and boxers, hair a tangled mess, he pads down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Wayne is dropping scoops of pancake batter into a sizzling pan on the stove.
“Mornin’, Ed.”
“G’morning,” Eddie grunts back. He plops into one of the seats at the tiny table, rubbing his eyes.
“Sleep okay?”
“Like a rock.”
Wayne nods approvingly. “Figured as much. I could hear ya from the living room.”
Eddie scrunches his face in annoyance. “You could not.”
His uncle smiles, mirth buried in his whiskers.
“Well, you deserve a good night’s sleep. You’re always out and about these days.”
Wayne flips the last pancake, lets it cook, then adds it to the stack he’s already piled up. He sets the plate of cakes and two cups of coffee onto the table, and takes a seat across from his nephew.
They begin to eat in silence. That’s not unusual, as Eddie has a tendency to inhale his food — the boy’s got a garbage disposal for a stomach — but he’s not scarfing it down the way he normally does. Instead, he pushes his breakfast around his plate in between taking small bites, looking moody.
Wayne pauses in between sips of coffee, #1 Uncle mug hovering halfway to his lips.
“Everything okay?”
“Uh…I think so. Yeah.”
Wayne raises an eyebrow skeptically at him. “You sound like you’re not sure.”
Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat, frowning at his pancakes.
He doesn’t want to push, lest Eddie shut him down completely, but Wayne’s curious. Sue him.
“Somethin’ happen with your girl last night?”
Eddie blushes and sits back in his seat, voice pained. “Wayne —”
“We don’t have to get all touchy-feely. It’s just a question,” he tells him sternly. “And believe it or not, kiddo, I have known a woman or two in my lifetime. I can give you advice if you need it, y’know. I’m not a eunuch.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Gross, man.”
Wayne laughs, a gruff chuckle that reverberates around the small kitchen. Eddie smiles in spite of himself.
“So what’s the problem?”
Eddie drums a nervous rhythm against the table with his fingers, naked without their bulky rings. “I don’t know, really. She was just kinda weird yesterday.” He pauses for a moment, searching for the right word. “Distant.”
Wayne listens intently, fist tucked under his chin. “Distant how?”
Eddie fills his cheeks with air, and lets it out in a long, slow exhale. “Well, she was fine in the morning, but last night she was really quiet. Especially when we were alone, which I don’t understand.” If you’d been nervous to spend time with his friends, then he’d get it, but you seemed fine at Benny’s. It was before and after, when you were by yourselves, which strikes him as odd.
He gestures helplessly with his hands, words flowing faster now, confusion leaking into every syllable. “She’s usually really excited when she sees me. All happy and stuff, y’know? And we always talk a lot, but she hardly said a word to me. And at first I thought she just had a tough day at work, but then —” Eddie stops abruptly, clamping his mouth shut. I didn’t get hardly any kisses, he finishes miserably in his head.
Rather than verbalize the thought for Wayne, he just throws his arms up, letting his flailing limbs speak for themselves.
Wayne gives him a solemn nod, determined to keep his expression neutral. If he reacts too strongly either way, then Eddie might not feel so inclined to discuss his love life with him again. Ever the sensible one, he asks, “Did she have a tough day at work?”
Eddie looks sheepish. “That’s what she said,” he admits reluctantly.
“But you don’t believe her?”
Eddie’s bottom lip juts out petulantly. “It just didn’t feel like she wanted to be around me.” His face falls, and his voice becomes softer, the hurt more pronounced. “Like she couldn’t wait to get away.”
Wayne heaves a sigh, and thinks it over. “Personally, I think you’re readin’ too much into it,” he finally responds. “If she tells you she had a hard day, then she probably did.” He rubs his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “Although, you might be onto something there….”
Eddie’s face crinkles in despair, mouth falling open.
“Now, hang on,” Wayne adds hastily, seeing his kicked-puppy look. “I just mean to say, that you’ve been spendin’ an awful lot of time together, right? And you haven’t really known each other that long, but you’ve hardly gone a day this summer without seeing her. Maybe she’s runnin’ out of things to say to you,” he jokes.
Eddie clicks his tongue in distaste. “C’mon,” he complains.
“She might just need a little space, is all I’m sayin’.” The older man shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you, or that she doesn’t wanna be around you. Just give her some breathing room. And then, in a few days, if you still feel like things are off, talk to her about it.”
Eddie squints at him. “Can I just do that?”
Wayne shakes his head in disbelief. “Boy, I swear,” he mumbles.
After breakfast, Eddie mulls over what his uncle told him. Now, he’s the first to admit that he doesn’t really know how to be a boyfriend, but goddamn it, he’s trying.
Is that his problem? Is he trying too hard?
Okay, fine, he’s a bit of a smother. But it’s difficult for him not to be; he’s spent far too long navigating life in this thankless town alone. Now that he’s finally found you, he can scarcely bring himself to let go, even for a second.
“Breathing room,” he mutters to himself. Fine. No biggie. He can deal with that.
For the next few days, Eddie resists the temptation to call you first, or visit you unannounced at work, which is a task that would be much easier to accomplish if you were giving him literally anything in return.
But you haven’t called. Not for an evening chat, which was customary on days he didn’t stop by the library. Not to check up on him, not to find out where he’s been, or why he hasn’t visited…it’s like nothing is out of the ordinary.
Evidently, you’re not missing him at all.
The phone has only rung twice so far this week. Once it was Henderson, and the other one was a telemarketer that he promptly hung up on. His ego took a huge hit every time he came home and asked, “Any calls for me?” and had to see Wayne shake his head no.
Disappointed, and overwhelmed by a creeping sense of dread, Eddie concludes that your radio silence could mean one of two things: either you just don’t feel the need to be around him as much as he does you, or he did something to upset you.
He can’t figure out which is worse. The internal debate plagues him morning and night as the days keep rolling by.
Up until now, you haven’t seemed to mind his clinginess. If anything you were nearly always overjoyed to see him — so much so that it startled him, and he often found himself looking back over his shoulder, to see if there was someone else standing behind him that you were smiling at instead. Has the novelty of Eddie Munson worn off so quickly? It didn’t seem like you, so kind and attentive towards him, but who was he to expect you to want to be with him twenty-four/seven?
Unless it was something else entirely, something he had done that didn’t sit right with you, that was causing this. He tries to think of what he could possibly said or did that may have offended you, but he keeps coming up empty.
And then, in the midst of his warring thoughts, inspiration strikes.
“Uhhh…hey, Wayne?”
Wayne calls back from his spot on the couch, where he’s immersed in the latest episode of The Joy of Painting. “Yeah?”
Eddie shuffles into the living room, lips pursed. He tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. “Would it be…ill-advised…to show up unannounced at her house with a grand romantic gesture?”
Wayne stares at him. “You know I said space, right?”
Eddie starts packing up a brown paper grocery bag with everything he thinks he’ll need, while Wayne hovers in the kitchen, watching him with his arms crossed. He’s simultaneously disapproving and amused.
“So you’re just gonna ignore my advice, huh?”
“Wayne,” Eddie sighs, “I appreciate your sage words of wisdom, I really do. But unfortunately, I am not a patient man. I need resolution now, or else I’ll die.” He pulls out another snack from a cupboard and stows it away in the bag, alongside the sandwiches he made and some other morsels scrounged up from the kitchen. He’ll get your favorite drink, too, when he stops for flowers at the gas station —
“You? Impatient? Naw.”
“Ha, ha,” Eddie replies sarcastically.
Wayne shakes his head. “I sure hope this works out for you.”
Eddie hesitates. “I mean….” Suddenly insecure, he looks over at Wayne, anguished expression on his face. “Is it a completely horrible idea?”
Wayne softens immediately, and silently curses himself for discouraging him. “No. No, I don’t mean that. I’m actually…well, I’m mighty proud to see you treatin’ a lady so well.” Eddie turns scarlet, grimacing at the praise, and Wayne continues. “I’m just worried you might overwhelm her, with…how well you’re treatin’ her.”
Eddie rakes a hand through his hair. “I just…don’t like the way things feel right now. And I don’t wanna make the mistake of ignoring it, hoping it’ll go away, and have things get worse.”
There’s a pang in Wayne’s heart. He really is a good kid, isn’t he? “Aw, hell, Ed. If this feels like it’s the right thing for you to do, then I say do it.”
When Eddie finally arrives at your house, the nerves have really kicked in. He understands that this is kind of a gamble, but subtlety has never been his forte. Slinging his acoustic guitar over his back, clutching the grocery bag in one fist and a small bouquet of dyed carnations in the other, he manages to rap lightly on the front door without dropping anything.
Eddie holds his breath as the seconds tick by, heart thumping in his chest.
Finally, the door swings open slowly, revealing your figure and Eddie immediately feels warm, in spite of the cool air that seeps out from the house. You look startled to see him, even more so when your eyes drop down to the flowers in his hand, mouth popping open in surprise.
“Hi,” he greets you nervously. “Uh, I hope it’s okay that I’m here, I-I know I didn’t call you or anything first. But, um, it’s a nice day out, so I thought we could have a picnic?” It comes out like a question. He jostles the grocery bag, and you can hear the contents shift around inside. “If you’re not busy or anything. And these, um, are for you.” He thrusts the flowers forward, palm sweating against their plastic wrapping.
You stand there in silence, not saying or taking anything, just gaping at him. Eddie’s stomach drops. And he’s totally unprepared for what happens next.
Your face crumples, and you burst into tears.
“Oh, Jesus.” Eddie sets everything down onto the ground and lurches forward, arms outstretched to touch you, but he hesitates before making contact, his hands fluttering around your figure uncertainly. “I — sweetheart — what?” he stutters, entirely out of his element.
“Sorry!” you sob, clapping your hands over your mouth. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t apologize,” he says automatically, completely bewildered. His hands finally come down to rest on your shoulders, and he leans closer to you, like maybe proximity will cure whatever this is. “Is something wrong?” He winces, and shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s stupid — what’s wrong?”
You sniffle in response, fat tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.
Watching you tremble with emotion breaks his heart, and it’s stronger than his panic at being unexpectedly confronted by a crying woman. “Oh, baby,” he says tenderly, wrapping his arms around you fully and pulling you in close. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“Sorry,” you repeat in a watery voice, slightly muffled by you pressing your face into his shirt. “You’re just…you’re so sweet, Eddie. That’s all.”
“You don’t have to say sorry for crying,” he says, chuckling breathlessly. “Although I was kind of aiming for a smile with all this, not tears.” He pats your back gently, and moves his lips to your ear. “It’s been a while. I was missing you.”
You shudder. “I missed you, too.” You let out a choked laugh, and pull back a little, dabbing at your eyes. You audibly try and swallow the lump in your throat. “This isn’t how I usually greet company, I promise.”
In the small, sunny backyard, Eddie lays out a faded gingham tablecloth onto the grass. It’s tattered at the edges and bears quite a number of stubborn stains, maybe not great for their tiny kitchen anymore, but perfect for an outdoor blanket. While he sets up his little surprise date, doling out food and plates and napkins, he steals glances at you, visible through the kitchen window, where you’re arranging your new flowers in a vase. When you come back outside to join him, he doesn’t miss the way you swipe at your eye one last time, trying to rid yourself of the final remnants of your outburst.
He offers you a soft smile, and pats the spot on the ground next to him.
You sink onto the blanket with a sigh, looking tired but pleased to see him nonetheless. And there’s a trace of something else in your eyes, some unknown emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on. You reach gingerly for the sandwich he packed for you — your favorite, you note right away — but Eddie simply watches, wondering if he has to ask or if he should wait for you to explain.
“So, how’re things?” you ask innocently, and take a small bite.
Eddie raises his eyebrows, but he keeps his tone light. “Well, I’m a little concerned, naturally. We gonna talk about what just happened back there?”
You chew slowly, stalling. He waits patiently.
“I wasn’t expecting all this,” you finally say, gesturing around at the spread before you. “It’s…it’s really, really nice of you,” your voice breaks again on the last word, but if you’re threatened by another wave of tears, you don’t succumb.
Eddie shrugs modestly, but remains curious. “It’s no big thing. Just wanted to surprise you,” he says, and hesitates before continuing. “I, uh, haven’t heard from you in a while, so I wasn’t sure if…maybe you were upset with me, or something, I dunno. Like, if I did something wrong.”
Abruptly, you fix your gaze on your lap, but not before Eddie sees them widen in alarm.
He peers closer at you. “Were you upset with me?”
Your blanche. “God, I’m such an asshole,” you mumble, throat tightening again.
Eddie’s thoroughly confused now, and he chuckles uncertainly. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m a little lost here. Why are you calling yourself an asshole?” The idea is absurd; it’s hard for him to even fathom.
You wring your hands nervously, unable to make yourself look at him. “Eddie, I — I’m sorry. That I haven’t been reaching out to you lately.” You struggle with what to say, feeling ashamed, but you force yourself to continue. “But…Marissa — from work, y’know? — she…she told me some stuff about you.”
Eddie’s insides turn to ice.
“Stupid, gossipy stuff,” the words come out in a rush now, like you’re desperate to get the truth out and over with, “most of which I didn’t even really believe, anyway, but I guess I couldn’t help feeling…anxious, after it happened? And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I just…didn’t. I’m so sorry.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, frustrated at your own actions. “And then you come here today with an entire picnic, and flowers, and your guitar, and I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet. I can’t believe myself.”
Eddie falls silent for a moment, his dark eyes big and sad. It’s not what he was expecting, though he supposes he should have been anticipating something like this happening eventually. Gossip about him had improved — or affected him less, at least — when he finished school, but there were still whispers about him amongst the townies, he knew.
“What did she tell you?” he asks dully. “That I’m the spawn of Satan?”
A knot twists in your stomach. “Something like that. Of course I know that’s bullshit.”
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Oh, yeah? What did she tell you that was so impressive, then?” When you flinch at his words, he cringes inwardly at his own snarkiness, and reminds himself who he’s talking to.
You scratch at a dark spot on the blanket, fidgeting under his stare. “She — she said that you were involved with someone named Chrissy, and the way she mentioned it really freaked me out.”
Upon hearing her name, Eddie’s eyes bulge with panic. Oh shit, oh shit. Low blow from Marissa. Because unlike the far-fetched devil worship accusations, there’s some substance to that rumor, no matter how convoluted the truth became. He starts to mentally scramble for a way to explain, but you continue on before he can speak.
“I guess I just couldn’t stand the thought of you having another girlfriend,” you admit guiltily. “I didn’t wanna find out, because I didn’t think I could take it, if I knew you were seeing someone else.”
That catches him off guard. “Oh, you —” Eddie fumbles with his words, “you thought that I was…dating her?”
You frown. “Well, yeah. When someone tells you ‘ask him about so-and-so’ in that kind of tone, that’s generally what comes to mind.”
Eddie blinks, then groans, and flings himself back on the blanket. He drapes one arm over his eyes, hiding the world from view. He heaves a great sigh. “Nothing like that ever happened between Chrissy and I,” he says quietly. “Never dated, never hooked up. Never even so much as kissed.”
“Oh.” You process this, wondering at her significance. “Who is she, then?”
“Just a girl in town,” he mutters. “We went to high school together.” He sighs resignedly again, and pulls his arm up, just enough so he can peek at you. “Listen, Wayne and I, we don’t have a whole lot to our names. In case that wasn’t obvious.” He snorts humorlessly. “I…used to deal, for a bit of extra cash. Help out with the rent and stuff. Did Marissa tell you that, too?”
“She did,” you affirm. “But Eddie, I don’t care about that either, I swear.”
He moves on without acknowledging your remark. “Chrissy was a cheerleader. Queen of Hawkins High, basically. And she was looking to buy one day, so we met up after school. I was just gonna sell her some pot, but she asked me if I had anything, ah, stronger.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “I didn’t usually sell harder shit to other students, but I had some Special K laying around, for my own…personal use.” He doesn’t dare look up again to see your reaction to this tidbit. “And I sold it to her…and then she disappeared.”
You stare at him. “She…disappeared?”
Eddie sits back up and nods, face hardening. “For a few days, anyway. Ran away. Her family’s got a good name, and a lot of money, but that doesn’t always make for a good home life, y’know? I don’t know what was going on with her, exactly, but she wasn’t okay. And when she skipped town, everyone pointed their fingers at me.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate; the implication is clear. Still, you ask, “What, they thought that you…did something to her?”
“Yeah,” he deadpans, staring off into the distance. “All but brought out the pitchforks and torches.”
Indignance on his behalf hits you like a truck. “Teenagers run away all the time!”
Eddie rubs his face in distress. “Yeah, they do, but when Hawkins’ golden girl is last seen entering the town freak’s trailer to buy ketamine, people tend to jump to conclusions.”
A wave of sadness washes over you, as you try to picture it in your head: they truly believed that sweet, doting Eddie was capable of hurting a young girl like that?
Eddie, who played fantasy games with kids six years his junior simply because they asked him to, and fed the strays in the trailer park, and spent many a Sunday making banana bread with his uncle? Who he chose to live with instead of moving out, because he loved him and wanted to be close in case he needed him? Was it even possible, for people to be so blind?
The very thought of it makes you sick. “That’s horrible….”
“S’okay,” he mumbles. “She came back home eventually. A little worse for wear, I heard, but she was fine. Told everyone that I had nothing to do with her leaving, or whatever happened while she was gone. But,” he shrugs, “people will believe what they wanna believe. The Munson reputation precedes me.”
You reach for his warm hand, and clasp it in yours, savoring the feel of his calloused palm against your own.
He casts you a desperate glance. “I swear I never did anything to her,” he whispers.
Your chest aches for him, and you squeeze his hand. “Of course you didn’t.”
His breathing hitches. “I guess it’s obvious,” he says, voice trembling slightly, “that there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t, um, told you about yet. And to be honest, I don’t think I’m ready to tell you all of it right now, either. But I will, someday.”
There it is. The notion that Eddie wants to be in your life long-term, and that he wants you to be in his, finally spoken.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to,” you reassure him quietly. “It won’t change how I feel about you, anyway. I think you’re really wonderful. I-I like you so much, Eddie.”
A silence falls over the two of you. Eddie watches the bumblebees fly lazily over the white clover dotting the lawn. You try to think of something else to say, something you can tell him that’ll make the pain go away, erase the hurt that this town has caused him. You suspect that this incident with Chrissy is just the tip of the iceberg that is Eddie’s trauma — for how long was he treated like this by those around him, and how harshly?
Before you can come up with the right words to soothe him, Eddie speaks again, his voice a little stronger. “So you, uh…heard that I was a drug-dealing cult leader, but got upset because you thought I was seeing someone else?”
At last, some brevity. You make eye contact across the blanket, and you’re relieved to see the corners of his lips have turned up into a tiny smile.
Heat blooms in your cheeks as you nod. “I did, yeah.”
He attempts husky laugh, though he still looks weary. “Damn. You got it bad, huh?”
You shrug. “What can I say? You’re a catch, Munson. I don’t think I feel like sharing.”
He hums softly, and he relaxes a little, body sagging as he finally releases some of the tension he’s been holding onto all this time. “Sorry for snapping at you,” he offers needlessly, biting at his thumbnail.
You dismiss it immediately. “Don’t apologize —”
“Nah, I get it. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if the cult rumors or the dealing really did bother you, even. I mean, that’s some pretty jarring intel to hear from your boss about the guy you’re dating. They’re not really things people tend to look for in a partner.”
You shake your head. “I should’ve talked to you about it as soon as it happened. But it just felt so…crass to come right out and start interrogating you.” You scoot closer to him on the blanket. “You have to believe me, Eddie, I don’t care about what anyone else has to say. I feel like I know you,” you pause, and reach out with your free hand to cup his cheek, “even if I’m a little fuzzy on the details right now.”
He sucks in a quick breath, closing his eyes, and rests his face against your palm. “I have to warn you,” he says, “that if we’re together, and people know about it, then this might not be the last time someone tries to talk to you about me. And I’m asking you to — to trust that I’m not what they say I am.”
“I do,” you promise. “I trust you.”
You lean in and press a soft, quick kiss to his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, and chuckles weakly. Although the reassurance was needed, he’s feeling all too vulnerable for his liking, so he changes the subject. “You know, while we’re hashing things out here, can I ask you an unrelated question?”
You smile indulgently. “Shoot.”
“So, I guess we know now that this wasn’t really why, but Wayne told me that the reason you weren’t talking to me is because I’m up your ass all the time, and that I need to give you more space. That’s why I didn’t come sooner. I know I kind of smother you, and I was worried that maybe, maybe you needed a break from me, or something?”
Rubbing your thumb against his cheekbone, you whisper, “Oh, gosh no. You’re like…my favorite person, Eddie.” You nod shyly, as though affirming it to yourself for the first time. “Yeah. You’re the person I want to be around the most, um, at any given moment.”
Eddie blushes, and something inside of him shifts at those words, making him feel impossibly soft. “Me too,” he returns.
Your turn. “And I have a question for you, too.”
“Shoot,” he echoes.
“Were you gonna play me something on that?” You gesture to his guitar, forgotten on the grass behind him.
Eddie lets out another laugh, the most carefree one he’s uttered today. “I was. Sorry, I forgot.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine you playing acoustic music. I’m intrigued.”
Eddie grasps the neck of the guitar with one hand, and drags the instrument into his lap, situating himself into a playing position. “You’d be shocked, sweetheart. I can make just about anything sound metal.”
Your eyes sparkle wickedly. “Are you gonna play me some Joni Mitchell?”
Eddie purses his lips. “No, I was thinking KISS. It, uh, translates pretty well, actually.”
You cross your legs on the blanket, rest your elbow on your knee and tuck your hand under your chin — giving him your full attention.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s hear it!”
thank you for reading!! <3
taglist: @eddiesgirlforever @eds6ngel @sheisahauntedhouse @lokis-tardis-companion19 @teary-eyed-egg @whenshelanded @nanaminswhore @witchwolflea @destinationwanderlust @kores-mun-son-n-more @clairesjointshurt @fishwithtitz @wickedscorpio22 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @lexr86 @cultish-corner
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson x reader series#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x bookworm!reader#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson fluff
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I think I need more Dadttore. What will he do on his childs birthday?
He forgets :3
You do too but everyday is already a special day for you as long as you get to spend time with your father and the segments.
But good thing the segments are there and they always check the calendar!
They start preparations at two in the morning. Some already tasked themselves with the things needed for your surprise.
Sigma and Upsilon, being the only female segments your father created with the help of Sandrone, helped out with getting your outfit ready for the day.
Epsilon and Zeta stayed in the kitchen to bake you your favorite cake while also baking small treats for you to munch on, cookies, cupcakes, macaroons.
Prime (also a segment) and Omega distract your father by helping him work inside his office instead so he wouldn't know what the others are doing in the laboratory.
Theta and Beta would put away the beakers and test tubes, making sure there won't be any chemicals that can harm you. They don't want you to get any injury or get spilled by acid, they adore you too much. If they find out you got poisoned by inhaling something toxic then they're gonna strangle themselves and join you in your death bed.
Kappa and Eta cleans the laboratory floors, making sure there's no spills here and there and sterilizing the whole place.
Delta and Gamma hangs up the streamers and balloons. Delta had to stop Gamma from popping the balloons and it took them a while longer which is why Theta and Beta had to help them finish.
Iota was tasked to waking you up and being your personal assistant for the day. The segments all played rock-paper-scissors just to fight to get to be your assistant of the day and Iota won, which the others were upset about it.
Iota woke you up ten minutes later after he got in your room, he was too busy taking pictures of you with the kamera he was given and was gushing at how adorable you are. He got you ready for the day, even brushing your hair and styling it.
Meanwhile Dottore was already waiting for you in his office, holding a little gift he created for you. Omega and Prime just surprised that he even remembers what day it is today before getting scolded by their creator that 'he's not that old to forget.' Despite all that, Dottore still appreciates all the segments efforts just for his child.
Theta and Beta were the first ones to greet you the moment you stepped into the lab, they were the first ones to meet you back then before the others did.
To say you were happy was an understatement, you were euphoric at the whole surprise the segments had done out for you. They say to save the best for last and that's what you did, walking up to your father as he stood in the back of the crowd of segments with a soft smile on his face. He wasn't wearing his mask today so you can see his tired eyes as clear as day.
You grinned and ran up to your father, letting out a laugh as he held you and handed you the gift he made. No gift is more special and expensive than handmade ones is what you told him back then and he does exactly as so.
Family picture? Yes. Iota set the kamera up as all the segments crowded around you and your father, both of you being in the middle as all of you smiled once the kamera goes off.
"Happy birthday, my child."
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#dottore#dottore x reader#zandik x reader#il dottore#il dottore x reader#child reader
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Little Things (The Prince of Demons)
characters: Diavolo, GN!MC
navigation: Diavolo | Barbatos | Simeon | Solomon | Luke | Thirteen
content/warnings: little things you do, out of love. dateables edition! fluff. could be read as platonic but why would u
word count: 862
notes: Alas, Dia is the only one I have finished as of now on account of how my work/life balance has been absolutely wacked recently. I'll get around to the rest eventually, I promise! I have bits and pieces here and there but the dateables don't flow as easy as the boys. Mephis will likely not be included bc I'm not even vaguely familiar with his character, and because we are both horse girls and he is my bitter rival on principle. I stared at this piece a lot but did I edit it? no
Diavolo was a lonely man. He knew a lonely childhood, tucked away in the Demon King’s palace with only the grounds staff as company. He attended lessons alone as he grew up learning what it would take to shoulder his father’s throne once he came of age. When the reigning monarch fell into his dreamless slumber, Diavolo had effectively lost yet another lifeline to anything resembling a normal existence-- a parent. As a young man (or, rather, the demon equivalent of a young man), surrounded by nobility of all kinds vying for his attention, he knew they only saw Diavolo, the Crown Prince. Even the brothers, who were the closest to being considered his friends, played along with his antics out of duty. No doubt Lucifer drilled it into them to be accommodating.
Sometimes he felt as though he was cursed-- paying for his original sin by bearing his existence, at the end of the day, alone.
That was, at least, until you came along. You, so small and fierce and human. You, who upon meeting him at the beginning of your tenure as an exchange student, held his gaze squarely and didn’t back down, even when he could practically smell your fear.
You, who for whatever reason, be it ignorance or sheer, unmitigated gall or something else entirely, didn’t for a moment treat him any differently than any other demon you met. Once you were comfortable living among magical beings, it was as if the floodgates opened. Despite horrified reactions from Lucifer and gentle chiding from Barbatos, you told him when his jokes were stupid (even if you still laughed), slapped his arm companionably when greeting him, and called him by a myriad of silly nicknames.
Your friendship is the most precious thing Diavolo has ever received in his long life. You aren’t one of his subjects, born to defer to him whether you wanted to or not. You aren’t an angel, who gave him a cautious respect for the good of your realms’ relations. You didn’t even know he existed before you came to the Devildom. You chose not to see the heir to the throne, and instead saw Diavolo-- a gentle giant with more love in his heart than he was born to carry. Diavolo, who would go to the ends of all three realms for those he cared for. Diavolo, who was loud and boisterous and always wanted to be involved. Diavolo, who liked cigar cookies and video games and could be a bit of a goofball.
He cherishes every aspect of your relationship. He loves when you send him blurry photos of various pairs of objects or animals you see when out and about, with the caption "us fr <3”. He loves getting links to dumb memes in the middle of the night, followed by laughing emojis or “this u??” You poke fun at him, bite back with quips when he makes jokes at your expense, and play silly little pranks on him. His favorite is when you gesture to something on his coat, only to flick the tip of his nose when he looks down to investigate. He’d long since caught on to that ruse, among others, but your bright smile and chirping laughter when you teased him for falling for it yet again are too precious to him to not play along.
He even appreciates the times that you turn down his invitations to spend the weekend at the palace with him, citing exhaustion from the brothers’ antics or pressing schoolwork from RAD. You’re not automatically agreeing simply because you have no choice-- you spend your limited, precious time on him because you want to. More often than not you made up for declining by showing up entirely unannounced some time later, cloaked beneath a spell to shield you from Barbatos’ sixth sense for his Lord getting up to shenanigans, beckoning him to sneak out with you to suck on thick milkshakes in some cramped corner booth and giggle conspiratorially like a couple of misbehaving teenagers.
When he’s around you, Diavolo feels like he can breathe. He doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances. You aren’t looking for political sway, or funding, or an elevated social status. For the first time in his life, he can set aside his heavy burden and feel... normal. He can ruffle your hair, and only half-heartedly hold you back from practically climbing him to dig your knuckles into his scalp and return the favor. He can laugh when you swat at his hand as he reaches across your plate to steal a few of your fries. He wears the friendship bracelet you braided for him at all times. He considered charming it to never fade or fray, but when it finally falls apart from wear, your mock exasperation when you tell him you’ll make him another makes him feel so real.
Diavolo was a lonely man. But now, he has a friend. A genuine, honest-to-goodness friend. You have matching contact photos, and inside jokes. You don’t call him my lord when he comes up in conversation; it’s always my friend. Now, thanks to you, he isn’t lonely anymore.
#obey me#diavolo#obey me diavolo#diavolo x reader#diavolo x mc#obey me x reader#om! diavolo#om diavolo#obey me dateables#if you read through these tags i love you special
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Heyy, I was thinking about a concept with Fyodor (or whoever from BSD) having a streamer bf, but like, one of -those- streamers where every word they say can be quite questionable (in a “good” way/ironically). For some reason it amuses me to imagine it with Fyodor and Reader occasionally teasing him, calling him their ‘discord kitten’ or streaming for 5 hours (or more lol) saying nonsenses or playing video games instead of paying attention to Fyodor. What do you think?
“Get Off The Game ♡˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚
╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu
Warnings;
Description; BSD men with a streamer!reader
A/n; these are in headcannon form, I hope that's alright!!! I think Dazai or Nikolai would be a better person to have this occupation w so I also did headcannons for one of them
Fyodor Dostoevsky ★
• Fyodor thinks it's stupid at first, but when he realized you made money from it he learned to tolerate it. He wasn't too fond of the noise, though.
• I don't think he was too fond of the nickname 'discord kitten', always raising an eyebrow when he's called that, he also strongly dislikes brainrot cause what do you mean you're so sigma? No you're not, you're y/n. That's unrelated, but I thought I'd add that in there.
• "A discord what? Kitten? What even is that? I am nothing of the such."
• Catch him dead before he makes an appearance on camera, he much prefers to keep his business private. He doesn't mind you talking about him though, he loves that. He loves that people know you're already taken by him and that all those losers in your chat don't have a chance with you.
• Sometimes he'll watch your streams from a different room in attempt to understand your work and the art of gaming. He enjoys when you play horror games, especially the ones that get you thinking. He sometimes finds your facial expressions when you get jumpscared funnier than anything else in the stream.
• When it comes to the duration of your streams, Fyodor can entertain himself for as long as you need him to, but he can't help but feel like he'd rather be spending that time with you every now and again.
• He usually just takes the time to work on his DOA stuff, and occasionally he'll get so lost in it that he doesn't even realized you've finished with your stream and on whenever that happens, you make some tea and go to fetch him to spend some quality time together, whether it's you laying in his lap while you both read a book or having a conversation about whatever comes to mind
Dazai Osamu ★
• Dazai is your #1 supporter since day one. There's a conversation going on about content creators? He's immediately bringing you up. You need new items for your set up? He's manifesting that said items go on sale ASAP!
• Oh my god, and he LOVES it when you get recognized in public. He's very prideful of you and likes that it's only him and a select group of people that get to see the real you outside of the camera frame.
• He, unlike Fyodor, does have an issue with the long hours, so he busies himself with the ADA and otherwise to keep himself from walking in and talking your ear off while you play your games for umpteen thousand people.
• He doesn't despise being called a discord kitten, but it does confuse him a little bit. But whatever, as long as you have 'my' in front of any name he doesn't care.
• Dazai watches your old streams when he's bored and can't help but giggle at the out of pocket or questionable things you say. He likes to watch the compilations of you on YouTube, too.
• Sometimes he'll quote you out of the blue.
• He doesn't like people trying to flirt with you or talk to you on the Internet as any partner wouldn't, so he is in the comment section of every post reading through individual comments. Type guy to see '❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥' comments on your posts and reply '🧯🧯🧯'
• All in all, Dazai is well received by your fanbase, especially the ones who don't try to romance you and are normal. They think he's funny and a good match for you.
A/n; I hope it wasn't to short!!! I thought it was a cutsey idea, I think Nikolai would be pretty similar to Dazai in this scemario.
#bungo stray dogs#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#bsd fanfic#bsd headcanons#fanfic#fanfiction#bsd fyodor#fyodor x reader#bungo stray dogs fyodor#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor bsd#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#fyodor x you#fyodor x y/n#dostoevsky bsd#bsd fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor#osamu dazai x you#dazai osamu x reader#osamu dazai x reader#bsd dazai osamu#dazai osamu#dazai bungou stray dogs#bsd dazai#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai x reader#dazai osamu x you
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Reflect
Masterlist
— Synopsis: When all the leads dried up, Ellie is forced to accept the heart wrenching reality that she’s never gonna see you again. Until two years and half later, the unexpected happens. People don’t come back from the dead so, How did you?
SERIES WARNINGS: Tlou au + Heavy mentions of Death and death itself + Heavy mentions and depictions of violence + Flashbacks (Flashback with E + R are both 19 and in present 21) + Established relationship between (E + R) + Mentions and usage of weapons + Angst (with little comfort) + Mentions of sucidal behavior + Self-deprecation + Depictions of depression + Mentions of Anxiety + Mentions of PTSD + Mentions of grieving + Mentions of survivor’s guilt + Torture sequence + Mentions of blood + Descriptions of corpses + Mention of cannon game violence + Fighting sequences + Mention of stalking + Fluff + Light humor (MORE TO BE ADDED)
Pairings: Ellie Williams x Female! Reader
Total Word Count: 13.7k+ (Ongoing progress)
Maybe in another universe, we don’t spend time apart becoming two different souls, and instead one.
CHAPTERS
Chapter one — Tormentor
Chapter two — If I ever were to lose you
Chapter three — I’d surely lose myself
Chapter four (Finale) — Acceptance?
Series taglist: @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @woahshhh, @cinnamonmilf, @ellie-07063, @bready101, @mina-281, @san8ny, @teawithnosugar, @bubbles6813, @me-and-your-husband, @bbglmfao, @syrenada, @maenews, @diddiqueen, @hrtreuptakeinhibitor, @abbyspussyslurper, @elliewilliamsrealwifey, @onlinelesbo, @hsangel64, @blossomt0wer, @skylerwhitwyo, @mcqueeferson, @craz1er4you, @lia-winther, @isitadinosaur, @elliesbitchh, @natashasnoodle, @lillysbigwilly, @millinorrizz, @elliesswearjar, @clittor, @scintiale, @abbysleftbicepp, @ashreblogsnow, @vqxen, @zoehxnji, @a-little-bit-of-everybody, @tphmnv, @elliewilliamgfooc, @whenlostinthedarkness, @ellabssucker, @elliesexual, @moonsofartemiss
Ellie Only fics: @herelieskrisy, @mikellie, @slaysksmska, @mina-281, @teawithnosugar, @kitkatkittycat111
𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃: 3/31/24 — 22:01
— all rights reserved ©AOUIAA 2024. do not copy, repost on other apps without credit or permission, and translate any of my work.
#Reflect ˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷٠˚🪞#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x f! reader#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie williams angst#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams fanfic#ellie fanfic#ellie fanfics#ellie williams the last of us#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#ellie tlou#tlou#tlou fluff#tlou angst#ellie williams the last of us 2#tlou2#the last of us#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams au#tlou fanfiction#tlou au#wlw#lesbian
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It’s okay if not because I don’t think you’ve written anything like it or similar before but for Into the Abyss of Bad Habits would you maybe consider writing reader who wants to try strapon sex with Noah because she sees how well he takes Oli and wants him to fall apart like that under her? 🫠 Especially since he’s a workaholic and a control freak, to see him just lose all sense of that. There is not a thought in his head. He melts actually melts into the mattress. I just know you would do it justice. Maybe Oli and reader are plotting together as a result of him disappearing into the studio for hours,days, at a time, kind of getting lost in it, ignoring them. Not everyone’s cup of tea though, I know. Feel free to ignore!
Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Requested scene
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Oliver Sykes x Reader | Words: 2k
Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, sexual content (basically what's written in the request, it's not too descriptive, though), use of handscuffs, three people in love exploring the joys of sex, oliver being sort of a sex instructor 🤭, and fluff ✨
I felt apprehensive at my own idea as I approached the studio on the ground floor of our house, my hand tightly gripping Oliver as he led the way.
My heart raced in my chest, skittish at Noah’s reaction to my proposal.
He had been consumed by work again in recent days, secluding himself in the studio for hours on end, skipping meals, and feeling perpetually behind schedule, despite evidence to the contrary and his bandmates reminding him that they were good on time for their next releases. Noah’s self-imposed stress often found a way to take control of him, keeping him distant from both Oliver and me.
Considering that we hadn’t had much quality time the three of us together since a week, I had had enough time to entertain myself with different scenarios that still hadn’t unfolded in the intimacy of our bedroom.
At first, when the idea crossed my mind, I felt somewhat embarrassed and quickly dismissed it. However, it persisted, stubbornly refusing to vacate my thoughts. I missed Noah, and I couldn’t shake the image of Noah unraveling every time Oliver took him, how effortlessly Oliver managed to get him to surrender to him. And in a sudden, unexpected moment, a twinge of jealousy took over me. I knew I could cause that effect on him, too, elicit the same response, to make him come undone when he was with me, whether inside me or in the grasp of my mouth. But now I yearned to get the same level of surrender that Oliver achieved.
I was so mortified at my own thoughts and needs that Oliver noticed my distress as soon as he entered the kitchen a few days ago and found me frantically preparing tea in the kitchen.
It took him less than five minutes to coax me into telling him what was going through my head, the scenario I’d been picturing the past few days. His reaction? He took my hand, picked the car keys, and drove us to the nearest sex shop, taking advantage of Noah being lost in his music world, which ensured us that he wouldn’t notice our absence.
Today, it had been three hours since Noah had disappeared into the studio immediately after breakfast, his absence stretching until late morning. It was Saturday, for God’s sake, and instead of going out for a run and spend some time with Oliver and me in the garden, or in bed, he had decided to remain sequestered in his space, oblivious to the world outside. He hadn’t even finished the bite of the avocado sandwich he’d been devouring for breakfast by the time he stood up, left the plate in the sink, and strode out of the kitchen, leaving me an Oliver gaping at his back as he disappeared down the corridor.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself before I knocked on the studio door three hours later.
“He’s going to like the idea, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Oliver tried to reassure me.
“Too late for that,” I replied.
Oliver squeezed my hand, a hint of laughter escaping him as he didn’t wait for Noah to open the door. With determined strides, Oliver barged into the room, removing Noah’s headphones from his ears.
Noah’s immediate protest was cut short by the seriousness in Oliver’s gaze, which conveyed a message of “enough is enough.” Then, with a subtle eyebrow gesture, Oliver directed Noah’s attention towards me, standing a few steps behind him. Noah noticed my tight grip on Oliver’s hand.
“What’s wrong?” he inquired, furrowing his brows.
“She wants to ask you something,” Oliver said.
“Propose, actually,” I corrected, my voice barely above a whisper.
“What is it?” He sat in his chair, relaxed yet attentive, hands hanging from the armrests and legs open and inviting. His attention was now fully on me, curiosity piqued.
I bit my lip.
“I want to fuck you the way Oliver does.”
After a brief moment of processing, Noah chuckled, his eyes flickering between me and Oliver.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve picked up a few things,” Oliver explained, “and we’re done waiting for you to come out of this mouse hole. So, get up from that chair, and let’s put some work into that rear, or it’s going to flatten out like a pancake.”
Noah’s expression shifted to one of disappointment and mild embarrassment. “Your jokes aren’t funny, dude,” he chided.
“Noah, please?” I interjected, extending my arm toward him, silently conveying what I wanted as I held his gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he swiveled around in the chair, quickly saving his progress on Logic Pro before standing up. His fingers lightly brushed against my chin.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
I could barely contain my excitement, nearly letting out a squeal as we made our way out of the studio.
When we made it to the bedroom, Noah and Oliver took of their t-shirts. I wriggled to remove my jeans, keeping my t-shirt and tiny thong on. Oliver then retrieved the strap-on from the bag, and when Noah caught sight of it, his reaction surprised me.
Instead of shock or hesitation, he chuckled with amusement, pulling me close to him for a deep, passionate kiss. He pressed his body to mine as I stood on my tiptoes before letting a delicious friction ignite between us that got me wet and him, hard.
Unlacing his sweatpants, I pulled them down with his underwear. He climbed onto the bed without needing any direction from Oliver or me. Meanwhile, Oliver assisted me, pulling down my thong and securing the strap-on around my hips.
“How do you want me, baby?” Noah asked, eyes on me.
“Umm,” I glanced uncertainly at Oliver over my shoulder.
“Don’t be shy, come on. Tell him what you told me” he encouraged me.
“On your back?” I said, moving some hair behind my ear. “I want to see your face.”
“Missionary? Alright, missionary it is,” Noah agreed.
With a contented smile, he settled onto the bed, arranging himself among the pillow on our huge mattress. He relaxed, arms folded behind his head, dick hard. He watched me as Oliver inspected me, his hands still on my hips.
“I feel so weird…” I muttered, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Can you feel the weight?” Oliver asked. I nodded. “That’s how it feels to be a man.”
I rolled my eyes. With a playful slap to my ass, he directed me to get on the bed and position myself between Noah’s legs, which were now bent.
Noah clicked his tongue, gesturing toward my chest. “T-shirt and bra off, baby. If you’re going to be on top of me, I want those beautiful tits pressed against my chest.”
Oliver spared me the hassle by removing the last of my clothes. Moments later, he positioned himself at the foot of the bed, still standing, his bare chest pressed against my back as my hand found their place on Noah’s knees. Uncertainty gripped me as I pondered how to begin. It was pretty obvious, yes, but it was still something new to me. I hadn’t tried this with any of my past lovers.
“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll guide you through it,” Oliver whispered in my ear, his hands massaging my shoulders. As I glanced down at Noah’s growing erection and then at the smirk on his face, I felt a surge of nerves. I was damn nervous about this whole situation, and he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the prospect of what I was about to do.
Oliver excused himself briefly, returning with a bottle of lube in hand. He applied some to my hand, instructing me to spread it on Noah, emphasizing how good it would feel if I caressed Noah’s perineum in the process, a sensitive area Noah apparently enjoyed. Following Oliver’s guidance, Noah emitted a low moan, his gaze fixed on me intently as I adjusted to this new task.
“Good,” Oliver said. “Guide it with your hands and start pushing in. When you feel ready to continue with your hips, use your hands to stimulate his dick. Meanwhile, I’ll tie his hands to the headboard,” he concluded, already moving to carry out his part of the plan.
“You had this all planned, didn’t you?” Noah began to remark, but his words faltered when I pressed forward with my hips.
My fingers encircled Noah’s erection, applying gentle pressure as I began to move and pump him in a steady rhythm. Oliver secured Noah’s wrists to the headboard before leaning in to grab his jaw and press a hungry kiss to his lips.
“Such a control freak,” he reprimanded him between clenched teeth while still holding his jaw between his fingers. Noah’s eyes had darkened and his cheeks flushed by the time Oliver had returned to stand behind me.
“Does it feel good?” I asked Noah, curious and anxious.
“It’s—ugh. Kitt—ah! Fuck.” His wrists pulled at the bindings. I bit my lip, power running through my veins as I kept thrusting into him and watched him abide to me. “It feels amazing…”
I attempted to go faster, but Oliver stilled my hips, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
“You don’t have rush, love. Find your rhythm, go at your own pace. He’s enjoying it either way. Just look at his face. He’s already melting. You’ve got him right where you wanted him, don’t you?” Oliver’s words were soothing, grounding me in the moment.
“Yes,” I replied softly, barely whispering. I had already lost myself to the cadence of my hips against Noah and in the harmony of seeing him slowly surrender blissfully to me. Spread out on the bed, hands bound, lips parted, his moans filling the room, he looked utterly beautiful.
“Keep going,” Oliver encouraged, his hands squeezing my breasts, and his fingers beginning to tease my nipples. My breath hitched. “Just like that. Good girl. You’re going to make him come in no time.”
In those minutes, I felt once again mesmerized at the connection I had with both, how marvelously well we worked together, how good we were for each other. My inexplicable connection with both Noah and Oliver was a harmonious blend of desire and intimacy that never failed to envelop us in its warmth. I felt fucking blessed.
“I want Noah to touch me, too,” I suddenly expressed.
“Alright,” Oliver replied. He was clearly enjoying the moment, guiding us through it all, witnessing how Noah was about to fall apart with me positioned between his legs.
It hadn’t been more than ten minutes of Noah being bound to the bed when Oliver released him. Despite his struggle to contain the pleasure, Noah motioned for me to lean on him. Maneuvering our bodies was a bit challenging given how they were connected and our size difference, but Noah managed to grasp my face in his hands and kiss me deeply.
With one hand still nestled between us, fingers wrapped around his thickness, I continued to stroke him, feeling the tension building within the body underneath mine until finally, I had him falling apart, his release coating both our stomachs, my mouth swallowing the wail his orgasm elicited.
It was dirty, the way I lay on top of him after, but as soon as the euphoria of seeing Noah succumb to ecstasy, totally melting into the mattress because of me, began to settle down, I returned to my knees.
Oliver helped me remove the toy, and quick as a cat I crawled back to Noah’s side while Oliver fetched wipes to clean us both.
As we cuddled in bed, Noah’s hand caressing my hair and his lips leaving feather-light kisses on my nose and cheeks, his voice filled the room with messages of reassurance, praise, and gratitude. Oliver joined us on the other side of Noah, still wearing his jeans and his erection evident against the fabric. Nevertheless, he looked just as elated as we did.
“That was fucking beautiful,” he said.
Taglist: @girlfromrussia-universe | @oro-e-diamanti | @lma1986 | @missduffsblog | @bngurngheart | @winterwinchester | @jilliemiw86 | @sorrowsofsilence | @th4t-em0-k1d | @to-be-written | @nonamessblog | @somebodyels3 | @starsomens | @ditto66 | @dominuslunae | @cookiesupplier | @midnight-eternals | @pennysky | @iknownothingpeople | @cncohshit | @ladyveronikawrites | @blackveilomens | @robabankfuckmickeymouse |@kageyasma | @concretedaddy2018 | @silentglassbreak | @thescarlettvvitch | @sammyjoeee | @pathion | @shilohrosechicken | @skulliecadaver-blog | @anameunmusical | @lobolocaamo
#noah sebastian#oliver sykes#itaobh request#bad omens#bmth#bring me the horizon#noah sebastian x oliver sykes#noah sebastian x reader#oliver sykes x reader
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CYOA - Eustass Kid x Reader
There's an idea kicking around in my head, just a little one-shot kind of thing, but I wasn't sure where I wanted it to go, and decided that I'd just let you all decide.
How this works: I'll write a part of the story and leave the decision point as a poll. Depending on the weight of the decision it'll either be a day or a week.
If things go well I may start doing these as a monthly series when there's not much else going on (so May, June, August, September, December, etc.)
CW: CNC, bondage, orgasm denial, gender neutral (they/them) afab reader style, dom/sub setting, free use - reader and Kid are testing the waters of an always on dom/sub relationship with a month-long trial. (more warnings may apply as the story progresses).
Summary: Modern AU. Kid owns a BDSM club, and you - and the "crew" - live on the top floor. Most everyone has their own flat, but there's a lot of criss-cross on who is in whose bed on any given night. You and Kid have been steady for a year, and you have more casual relations with other members of the crew.
Everyone knows everything, communication and consent are king - this is not a noncon/cheating story.
Frustration and nerves ate at you as you worked your fingers over your needy clit. You weren't wearing any leather cuffs, or a collar, because you were just finishing up with a shower.
A week ago you and Kid had agreed on the terms of some 24/7 bdsm play. Kid had free use rights, others in the crew just had to ask him before interacting with you, but you could turn them down. You could, technically, turn Kid down too.
Begging Kid to stop wouldn't work, you wanted to be able to scream your head off and have him rail you. But you had some hand signals, and tunes you could hum if you needed things to slow down, and a phrase that would pause things for that day, or end it for the rest of the month.
What you had expected when you agreed to this, was to enjoy all the deepest debaucheries that lurked with Eustass Kid. You expected you'd spend hours on the breeding bench, mouth full of his cock once he fucked your cunt raw, tears down your face as you gagged and struggled to please him.
You figured he'd spit in your mouth, smack you around, and call you all sorts of degrading shit. He could - he enjoyed it, you knew that much for sure, and so did you.
Instead, you'd spent the last week naked except for a collar and cuff combination that kept your wrists just a few inches from your neck. Kid fed you, touched and teased you, but never even so much as put a finger in your mouth. He'd get you worked up until you were begging him for more, and then just deny you.
If you complained too much he'd just put you over his knee until your ass was red, and then you'd be worked up, desperate, sore and even needier than you were before hand.
You slept together too, so there was no sneaking in some pleasure at night either.
You were desperate for release, and walking around naked, the feel of his hand against your skin whenever he wanted, kept you on an edge that was maddening.
But you weren't going to use any of your safe words just for some denial. Especially not when you'd come to realize that shower time was your alone time. Well, when you had to go you got privacy then too, but it's hard to do that and masturbate at the same time. There's no time to come down from your high then.
After all the things Kid had done to you, taking care of things manually was a little anticlimactic, but desperate times and measures.
Your body was tensing from the building pleasure, legs and toes starting to curl as the sweet build up began to warm your entire body. You kept your breathing quiet, and bit your lower lip to help stifle any sounds that might give you away.
Just as you were nearly there, the bathroom door opened, and Kid stood in the doorway. He doesn't look surprised to see you in the situation, but the look on his face is clear:
You're in trouble.
#CYOA Eustass Kid#x reader#reader insert#mdni#18+ only#dead dove#read the godsdamned CW#quin poll#modern au#eustass kid
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Uzi thunk…pls…
"Uzi Doorman those things killed your frikin' mother"
Did you know that Uzi's on the villains wiki? Bc I sure didn't.
Anyway Uzi Doorman hcs under the cut
Main character time lets go, jumping straight into this one:
Uzi will eventually turn into a murder drone (see my post about N for details)
Uzi absolutely refuses to say that she's dating N on principle (this is a lie and she knows it)
Uzi is always really tired, doesn't matter how much sleep she got
Uzi got over killing people waaayy too fast for everyone else's liking
Uzi's slover runs hotter than the dds but she needs to be colder, so she has to drink a LOT of oil
Uzi's tail sometimes gets stuck to things with it's spines
She tries to have a decent relationship with her dad sometimes: but it's hard to get through to him
Uzi wants to be a parent just solely so she can prove to Khan that she would be a better parent than him
Uzi sometimes experiments with her admin rights for N and V while they sleep (she once set their eyes to flash with rainbow colours and had a midnight disco on her own)
Uzi uses the healing powers of the solver to make even more dangerous tools and weapons without the risk of getting hurt
If Uzi ever found Beetlejuice the musical, she would spend days just listening to the soundtrack
Same with a lot of musicals and bands actually
The last time Khan left Uzi alone in the house for more than 12 hours, a large section of the bunker was lit on fire and destroyed
Uzi is oddly supportive of all the weird things N gets up to in the worker colony
V however has been shouted at multiple times for dropping on top of drones from the ceiling
The books Uzi uses to reach her locker are textbooks on doors that her dad wrote
She is the only one in her class that finds it weird that they can't just download the knowledge into their storage like, you know, a robot would
If she could find the spare parts, she would modify herself in any way possible (starting with extendable legs)
Uzi loves any weapon she can get her hands on and is thoroughly disappointed by her lack of claws from the solver
Uzi has a personal vendetta against a pipe that runs through her classroom after it burst and nearly short-circuited her
Uzi would be top of her class if she ever bothered to do the actual work
And if Lizzy didn't always get her dad to lower Uzi's grades
Uzi still hasn't figured out how to bypass her automatic censors, so every time she tries to properly swear she just goes *beep*
Khan fully blames N and V for activating Uzi's solver
Uzi occasionally will sleep hanging upside-down with N if they are caught out by the sun while hunting together
That's about it for this post, there are more but they start going a bit off the wall after here
Currently writing this instead of preparing for my art exam on Monday, 10 hours of lovely silence to enjoy being understimulated as all balls in... yay :(
At least I might get in some more thinking then
#answered#murder drones#n murder drones#murder drones uzi#uzi doorman#n x uzi#nuzi#biscuitbites#have to get the tags in somehow#hello connor#again#pls request things I need more to posr about#does anyone even read these#sorry normal people
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Regina takes up 2/3 of the bed but it works for them because Cady sleeps curled up in a little ball. Regina hates having to sleep without Cady because sometimes she has nightmares and she always feels guilty about calling Cady in the middle of the night.
Now, please do this 😔🙏, or if you could, elaborate more. I'm currently in the midst of brainrot.
#grad school universe / Angie's fic
Regina wakes up just as the bus is about to hit her, breathing hard.
For a moment, she's completely disoriented, before she realizes she's in her bed, her apartment dark and silent.
Regina presses a hand to her forehead and finds it tacky with sweat, and her throat is a bit tender. She wonders if she had been screaming in her sleep. That's happened before—and completely scared the shit out of Cady the first time.
Cady.
Instinctively, Regina reaches to Cady's side of the bed, and finds it cold and empty. Right. Cady is at her apartment in New Haven. Regina is still getting used to spending more nights apart than together. She'd never tell Cady, but she thinks the nightmares have become more frequent as a result.
Regina wants to call Cady. She needs to hear her voice. It's the only thing that slows her heart, which is still pounding inside her chest with panic. But it's the middle of the night, and Cady has class in the morning.
Regina rolls over and tries to ignore it, to will herself back to sleep—or at least into a calmer state. But every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Cady staring at her with horror as the bus plows into her body. Sometimes, in the dreams, the bus hits Cady instead. Those are the worst ones.
After a couple of minutes of trying to relax by sheer force of will, Regina tries deep breathing. She tries listening to some calming music. She even tries a free meditation video on YouTube, even though she thinks it's stupid. But she doesn't feel even a little bit better.
Before she can overthink it, she taps on Cady's contact and holds her breath as the phone rings.
Just as Regina thinks the call is going to time out, Cady picks up. The screen is dark, but Regina can make out part of Cady's face on the screen.
"Regina?" Cady mumbles sleepily. She squints against the light of her phone. "You okay?"
"Hi, baby," Regina whispers. She feels guilt flare in her stomach at Cady's sleepy face, but she already feels less like she's having a heart attack.
Cady runs a hand down her face. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asks.
Regina cringes a little at the wording—it makes it sound like she's four years old—but now is not the time.
"Yeah," Regina says. "I just needed to see you."
Cady makes a vague gesture that might be a wave. "Here I am."
"And so beautiful, as always," Regina says. She's always found it quite unfair how Cady looks gorgeous all the time, even in the middle of the night.
"I love you," Cady says, with so much affection that Regina physically aches to be with her. "I'm glad you're alive."
"Me, too," Regina says. "Most of the time."
Cady makes a displeased noise, and Regina knows if it weren't the middle of the night and they weren't in separate states Cady would insist on having A Conversation about the most of the time part.
For a few moments, Regina just looks at Cady's face. Well, more like half of her face. At a weird angle. But her breathing has returned almost to normal, and she isn't trembling anymore.
"I'm gonna fall asleep," Cady admits, eyelids drooping, "but I'll leave my phone on."
"Good night," Regina says. "I love you."
Cady kisses the tips of her fingers and taps them against the screen as her eyes close.
It'll have to do, for now.
#cadina#mean girls#mean girls 2024#mean girls broadway#mean girls the musical#regina george#cady heron#grad school universe#ask#anonymous#prompts
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A/N: This took me longer than I wanted it to but it's finally done! That means there's only one fic left to finish before I open up requests again. :•) Enjoy!
Premise: Depressed!GN!Reader finds out they're not as worthless as they think they are.
Warnings: None! Pure fluff.
You scribbled on the corner of the page to test your ink pen.
I have to vacuum the floor again soon. Dishes need to be done again today. I don't know what I want to make for dinner. More chores need to be done tomorrow. Is it even worth it anymore?
You pause. Every entry from the start of this week looked exactly the same. Flipping through the pages you notice that the beginning entries aren't much different either. Seems like every day has turned monotonous and bleak for you for a long time now. When you really think about it, when was the last time you were truly happy to wake up in the morning? Nothing came to mind.
The amount of hopelessness that filled your mind, body and soul was immense.
"Good morning!" Sloan sets down a coffee mug with a cat meme on it for you. Their smile had genuine happiness behind it– not something you could relate to.
"Good morning." You mimic their smile and watch as they take a seat next to you.
You're not sure how they could be so happy to wake up to the same burden every day of their life. Surely they must of thought you were baggage at this point. You were just waiting for the day they got tired of your presence and finally packed up and left. Everyone did. It was only a matter of time for them, too.
You bookmark the current page of your journal and close its cover.
"Don't forget your medicine!" They set your pill case next to your cat meme mug.
"Thanks."
They give you a kiss on the cheek.
You want to cry. Instead, you just watch as they take a seat next to you at the dining table for breakfast.
"Not hungry?" They ask.
They fork small bites of waffle into their mouth.
"I already ate." You lied.
"Oh? What did you have? I didn't hear you making anything."
You knew they were worried about you, but your brain didn't accept this.
"Just toast."
They're quiet for a moment. "Just toast?" They repeat.
"With jam. I'm not completely tasteless." You halfheartedly joke.
In order to dodge more conversation you open your pill case and down everything on an empty stomach.
"You have therapy today, right?" It feels they're playing a game of Twenty Questions.
"Yeah. I can make it there on my own, though."
"Well, I don't have anything to do right now. Why not let me take you?"
Right. You forgot. You were used to them being gone for weeks on end because of field work, studying or traveling. They took a couple weeks off to spend time with you. It seemed to be happening increasingly often as of late.
"It's alright, really. I don't want to bother you with it." You insist.
"It's not a bother! I promise!"
They're smiling again. It's hard to say no to that face.
"Alright."
...
Your therapist gives you back your journal after reading the last few entries. Nearly fifty minutes had already gone by and you don't feel like you've gotten everything off your chest yet.
"So, you feel like nothings gotten any better then?" They inquire.
"How are things supposed to get better at this rate?"
You collapse into the sofa and stare at the wall behind your doctor.
"I'm a burden. I can't do anything right. Everyone else already has everything figured out. What am I supposed to do? I'll never be good enough at anything."
Your therapist jots down everything you're saying before looking back up at you.
"If it's okay to ask... what do you want to be good at, exactly?"
You think about it. "Anything."
"Do you really think that's true, that you're not good at anything?"
You nod.
"You woke up this morning. You're breathing. You're very good at doing those two things. You're taking up space and existing. You're listening. You're feeling. You do these things without even thinking about them. Is that not a sign of skill?"
"That doesn't make me a worthwhile person, though." Tears start forming in your eyes and your therapist hands you the tissue box.
"You don't have to do anything well to be a worthwhile person. You exist, and that enough makes life worth living. If you want to learn more then you can, but knowing everything won't increase your value. You're valuable just by being here. Your worth as a human being is not determined by what you can or cannot do, or what you do or don't know."
Your therapist stays quiet as you sob into multiple tissues. It takes several minutes for you to calm down enough to continue your session.
"I still can't help but feel like a burden to everyone though." You still find it hard to speak after crying so much.
"Those who see you as a burden will never be worth your time. People who want to be around you will stay around you, even if they can't be present in your life at all times."
Rain begins gently tapping at the office window.
"... wouldn't it just be easier to shut everyone out, then?" You point out.
"Well, sure... but then you would never find out who truly loved you, or find others who are going to love you despite it all."
Another moment of silence passes between the two of you before the clock chimes in the distance.
"Same time next week I presume?" Your therapist fills out an appointment card for you.
"That sounds good."
...
You forgot your umbrella. The rain has already begun to pour.
Y/N: Alright. I'm ready.
💛lil meow meow💛: ᕕ( ՞ ᗜ ՞ )ᕗ
💛lil meow meow💛: ON MY WAY!!!
A car speeds by while you're waiting and splashes you from head to toe in puddle water. You're lucky enough that your phone case is water proof and that your journal is in your bag, otherwise everything would've been ruined.
Weird. You haven't thought about the positives in a long time.
You carefully wipe the droplets from your phone before another text message pops up.
💛lil meow meow💛: [Uploaded a photo at 3:56 PM].
It was a photo of you from behind.
💛lil meow meow💛: Omg? There's just a cutie pie standing outside? Do you think they're single?
You turn to look in the direction the photo was taken, then Sloan snaps another photo of you.
💛lil meow meow💛: OMG they noticed me!!!
💛lil meow meow💛: They're walking towards me!!!
You open the car door and the warmth hits your damp face.
"Wow. Now there's a cute person in my car! No way!" They grin and gesture over to you.
You can't help but smile.
"Sorry I wasn't fast enough to pick you up before the rain started..." They add.
They reach over to hold your hand and give it a comforting squeeze.
"It's okay. I can shower later." You reply.
You look out the passenger side window at the world covered in gray. The sooner you could get home, the better.
"So, how did it go?" They ask.
For a moment you replay the conversation with your therapist in your mind. You're not sure if you want to bring it up.
"Well..." You start to say, but you choke back the rest of the words.
Tears form in your eyes and you turn farther way from your beloved to hide them. You attempt to focus on the street lights passing you by instead.
"It was okay."
A brief silence passes between the two of you.
"You can be honest with me." There was a genuine concern for you in their voice that you were all too familiar with.
You bite your lip and think about your therapist again.
"Do you think I'm a burden?"
The question seems to come from no where for Sloan– but for you, it's all you've been wondering for a very long time.
"No! Of course not! Why would I ever think that about you?" They answer almost a little too defensively.
"Because you're smart, and you already have your life figured out– and I'm just a nobody, really..."
"No, you're not. Not to me."
You wipe the oncoming tears with your sleeves. The weight of the world comes baring down on your shoulders once again. Hot breaths escape between choking sighs and you can't stop yourself from sobbing all over again.
"I'm sorry–" That's all you could repeat, over and over again, like a broken record.
"[Y/N]..."
You can hardly hear them over the sound of your downfall.
The crisis seemed like it lasted forever to you. Everything you've been keeping bottled up for so long comes pouring out all at once without any warning. Even though your heart still hurts, you can feel it becoming lighter with every passing minute.
You can't form words. All you can do now is cry, cry, cry.
So cry, you did.
For minutes on end, tears flood out from underneath your swollen, bloodshot eyes. Your face was pink and pain pounded in your head from all the upset. It felt like forever until you were calm enough to form coherent sentences again.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." Once again you find yourself apologizing for things beyond your control.
"There's no need to say you're sorry. Let's just get inside so you can get out of those wet clothes."
You didn't even realize you had made it home already.
...
One mental breakdown, shower and ibuprofen later you felt like a brand new person.
In the same cat meme mug from this morning your beloved sets down some hot chocolate for you to help you cheer up.
"Do you want to talk about it?" They ask.
You can feel them wrap a blanket around you before sitting down and scooping you up into the warmest hug you've ever received. You close your eyes and melt into their affection while placing your head on their chest to listen to their heartbeat.
"I guess I just feel worthless most of the time." You admit.
"But why? You're not worthless to me. Not one bit." They comfort you the best they can.
You can feel Sloan place their hand on the back of your head and gently stroke your hair.
"I feel bad for taking time away from you. You have everything in your life figured out. I can't imagine why you still come around to visit me."
"Because I love you." There's a softness to their reply that makes your heart feel safe and secure. "I love spending time with you, so I take time off to visit you. If I didn't want anything to do with you I'd be gone already."
You think about their words for a minute and wish you had something equally as nice to reply with, but instead drowsiness begins to fog your mind.
You open your mouth to speak but a yawn escapes first.
"Rest, mi vida. Don't let those thoughts bother you anymore. I love you so much–" They place a kiss to your head. "– and I'll love you even more when you wake up."
They let you lay down and listen to their heartbeat for a little while longer.
"You mean the world to me. I don't care about anything else right now– just you. I'm here for you. Everything else can wait."
"Promise?" You nuzzle into their chest, ready to fall asleep at any moment.
"I promise. I'll write it on my tombstone." They reply.
"I'll hold you to that."
"You'll have to wait and see. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, first."
For the first time in a long time you felt yourself genuinely smile.
#this took me rewatching my entire comfort game to finish oof#overwatch#overwatch 2#venture x reader#venture x you#overwatch fanfiction#overwatch x reader#overwatch x you#sloane cameron#sloan cameron
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Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)
Epilogue: Choosing My Confessions
Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.
You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same
AN: Mild spoilers but this is the hurt/comfort aspect. If you'd rather hurt/no comfort, then leave it at the previous chapter.
Chapter 10 // AO3 Version // Masterlist
Weighed down by a worn-out fleece, John Price dragged himself into the lift of his apartment building, hitting his floor button with one knackered pointer finger, his other hand refusing to drop his bag until he was inside his bedroom. Tomorrow, he’d spend half the day soaking in a hot bath with a flannel on his head, air heavy with condensation and the smell of cedarwood. What a welcome for the new year. He counted each of his breaths each level he was taken above. His toes were stiff with chills in his boots, wriggling to get some warmth in his bones before the stroke of midnight.
Sliding in between the doors, he grunted whilst fidgeting in his pockets. At last, his key came free and it slid into the door - awkwardly, so he made a mental note to oil it later into his shore leave. The door slid open. John instantly withdrew his pistol, using the muzzle to push the door open further. A quick evaluation showed the additional cylinder lock still functional.
Abandoning his bag outside his door, John silently prowled into the front room, expecting anything: unturned furniture, ransacked drawers, an identical gun pointed straight at him, anything.
Except for the large lump he spied tucked up on the couch.
The maroon throw blanket that usually rested over the back of the sofa was curled around a sleeping body. John pivoted around, his gun still raised until he saw the face poking out the blanket’s edge. Then his arms slacked, the gun still safe but loose in his grip by his thigh as he laughed under his breath.
He reached across to the side table and flicked on the lamp. Its golden glow highlighted the scar on your cheek, a new one gained in the nine months since he’d seen you last. Your chest was rising and falling with little snores accompanying each motion.
Once he’d retrieved his bag, John slung it to the floor beside the almost identical one at your feet. He debated over what to do next. Eventually, he landed on clearing his throat.Your head lifted instantly, your soporific gaze meeting his equally tired one.
“Hello, stranger,” He said, his voice hoarse yet kind.
“Hi,” You replied, rubbing your eyes before waving a hand at the front door, “Sorry, I waited an hour before I picked the locks.”
So you had gone through the motions of getting his address but not his phone number. Not for the first time in his life, John questioned your train of thought. Then he remembered what he put you through for a decade and decided that hypocrisy was not the goal of the evening.
“Waited longer than I would’ve,” He huffed then used his foot to carefully nudge your overnight bag, the onehe knew you could live out of for a fortnight if push came to shove.
You didn’t notice, or chose not to, instead asking, “What time is it?”
“Uh,” John checked his watch before taking it off, “Half eleven.”
You nodded in acceptance but made no further effort to talk, looking down at your hand fidgeting with the throw rug in your lap.
Sensing you didn’t wanna get into the reason you were sleeping in his sitting room yet, John offered you a helping hand, “You can take my bed. We can save the shop talk for tomorrow.”
Your hand in his, hauling yourself up, grip tougher than it looked, you moved past him, leading the way to the bedroom, “Thanks.”
John didn’t ask how you knew which door it was behind. Rather, he sought refuge in his en suite, shedding his clothes and finding the energy to bother separating them into his divided laundry baskets. It was all he could handle not to fawn over you being in his home and your reason. You always were a curveball in his life, keeping him on his toes. Opting against the effort of shaving, he washed his face and pulled on his pyjamas.
Somehow, the image of you slotting in your earplugs and seeming stiff in the middle of the ice cold bed tilted John’s world off its axis all the more. You whispered a good night to him, which he returned, then he moved away, out and onto the couch just as you had done. His feet poked out onto the armchair, but he didn’t bother covering them in the throw. Instead, he focused on the ceiling, flat and smooth with boring white paint.
Sudden cheers caught his attention, echoing from outside. Faintly, he could make out the numbers descending.
The bellowing of “zero” brought flashes of red and yellow lights slipping through the gap in the curtains. They irritated the white paint with splashes of unpredictability. John’s mind switched up, despite his deep breathing, and he swiftly closed the blinds behind the curtains, shutting out any sign of the new year from his sitting room. Slipping back under the blankets, his body tensed against the few echoes of explosions that made it past the double glazing. He despised every second his body betrayed his intentions, putting him in work-mode in the comfort of his home when he could normally flip the switch without a second thought.
After about ten minutes, John pushed to sit up and groped around the sofa cushions for the remote. Grounding himself amidst the sounds with the images of the sparks showering around the Thames had to be easier than this.
Outside, some drunkards singing Auld Lang Syne clashed with the sporadic and delayed fireworks and the arid display on his TV set. It did little to convince his amygdala that he didn’t need five exit strategies on top of the ones he already had in place. The only reassurance was that, if something were to happen, this would be a nice place to go – with you nearby.
A dim shadow in the screen turned John’s head to see you and how you’d found his dressing gown, donned it accordingly.
You spoke before he could. “Can’t sleep. Where’s your tea?”
When you held up your hand to his attempt to get on his feet, John began pointing out the cupboards needed for your quest. His twisted spine didn’t complain; you brewing for two nondescript mugs was far more fascinating than whatever revelries were going on in some London stadium or recording studio. A soft thanks crossed his lips as you passed one mug to him over the back of the couch.
“Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year. What you watching?”
“BBC concert. Wanna watch with me?”
“You’re so fucking-” You let out a huff, then you hit him lightly with the dressing gown’s cord: “Polite.”
With a short yet deep belly laugh, John patted the sofa cushion beside him, “Never been called that in my life.”
“Don’t make me do it again then.”
Still, you moved around the couch and sat in the space offered to you. A healthy distance cushioned between John’s legs and yours.
Temptation to ask about what you’d been doing the past nine months blended well with the milk and tea – it was “tomorrow” after all. The words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall out in such a casual way to mask the impact of your reply, whatever it would be. You couldn’t just be here and not have something to say.
Your earplugs, nudged neatly in place, protected you from the stray fireworks outside and from noticing John’s runaway train of thought. It was almost peaceful to watch Rick Astley and Rylan (of all people) bop about on stage with warmth in your hand and at your side. Just enough to settle your stomach, you sipped your tea and absorbed the warmth through your palms.
In a move categorised under “high risk, high reward”, John unfolded the blanket he had been sheltered under and held up the corner in your peripherals wordlessly. You tried not to let this action derail your intentions as you tucked in closer to him to lay that portion of the blanket over your lap.
Three inches of suffocation between the two of you yet goosebumps extended from your arm hairs to feel the hum of his blood beating through his veins, like your body needed proof you were really next to him and not just a daydream you’d conjured up each time you debated if you regretted your choice or when you’d revisited the situation in therapy numerous times. This feeling was no doubt mutual. John Price had the patience of a sniper, but you were dangling him off a precipice whilst he waited for you to explain yourself.
Knocking back another sip of tea like it was whiskey, you asked, “I’m not keeping you up, am I?”
“No. No, you’re all good.” John told both truth and lies. Yes, you were fine being here. But you’d kept him up many nights, not just this one.
He zeroed in on your wrist as you leaned forwards to place your mug on the only other coaster on the coffee table. A new tattoo of a lit match sat beside his callsign’s artwork, the flame’s linework a nice contrast to the helmet’s bold yet fading black. So much of John’s attention was on the inked pairing that he almost missed what you said to him as you sat back into the couch.
“I think I’m ready to try and work things out with you.”
John wasn’t the kind of man to double take at something shocking. His body was built for earthquakes, absorbing all shockwaves, no swaying, sturdy and reliable. But the phrase he’d hoped to hear all those months ago sent tremors off the Richter scale. Twice glancing at your complicated expression, your words sank into his head with a sluggish pace he was unfamiliar with.
“What?” He asked, his heart beginning to pound and pine for confirmation.
You gave him the privilege of looking right in your eye as you repeated yourself, as steady as before:
“I’d like for us to try working things out. I’m ready to move on from that and I’d like to do that with you, like you asked me to back in March.”
A lot of Nerve was needed to pull this stunt off. Good thing you were known for it. The old times, so far away, waved to the new ones you’d just told him could exist.
Eyelids pressing shut to stave the mist that filled them, John’s chin met his chest as his head gave into gravity. His voice had gone AWOL. Maybe you were gonna be in the habit of making his speechless, but he wouldn’t care if you did if it meant what you said was God’s honest truth.
Meanwhile, you were starting to tremble with the effort you’d made to come here in the first place. All the decisions you’d opted for, rehearsals with your therapist and in your head, led you to sit in front of him and say with the integrity of your soul bared that, after months of absence, you were willing to try properly. And you were met with a stoic stern man sniffling.
“Am I too late?” You said quietly.
John sighed, drawing himself back up to show you the smile breaking out on his face, “Never.”
First time in years, your tears were not brewed in agony and his presence hummed in your veins. Reaching for your hands, John’s snapped together with yours like magnets. It wasn’t enough. Almost instantly, you had climbed into his lap and wrapped yourself around him until you could strangle each other with your iron grips. You felt nauseous with relief. John’s nose stuffed into your neck, his entire body bloating as he breathed you in with his burly arms firm against your back.
The smallest gap between you so that he could look you in the eye. His thanks fell from his lips over and over, like water tumbling down a fissure, for giving him another chance. Through his gratitude, he could see in the glass of your eyes how much you’d worked to get to here – to him, for him. Because of damage that he’d caused. The best thing anyone had ever done for him, and he didn’t deserve it. But he would take it in this rough reunion, too overcome to do more than just sink into one another.
Far from the same, from before, from a normal steady relationship that would survive under normal circumstances, especially considering you’d be shipped back out to Urzikstan in three days. But God, you knew you’d made the right choice coming back at this point in time. You’d take every second with him now that you could.
---------------------------------
AN: And that's it! I finally finished writing a fanfiction series. Thank you for reading and engaging with it on here and AO3. I really appreciate everything. Thank you again also to @mockerycrow for the original concept and allowing me to write this inspired piece of writing. Onwards, to the next fanfic!
Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @algor-babe
#john price x reader#john price fanfic#captain john price x reader#captain john price fanfic#john price#captain john price#cod#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod x you#my writing#series#r: gn
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me killing my English professor.
Please REBLOG this instead of LIKING. if you havent heard LIKES DO NOTHING. According to my calculations. You OWE me your reblog. I spend HOURS on my work, only for it to get a pittance of engagement. Every time I see a like on my artwork instead of a reblog, i put one cigarette butt out onto my arm.
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︶꒷꒦︶𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡︶꒦꒷︶
༺I Tags: one-shot, fem! reader x William James Moriarty, fluff, beach day idk, modern AU
༺I Warnings: barely any, just slightly suggestive at the end?? pretty short too
You noticed William had been overworking himself again. He wasn't sleeping nor eating well and you were getting worried because of it. So you had you negotiate with him, and it was no easy work. You wanted him to take at least a small break from everything else.
He complained and tried to make up an excuse for every idea you had to spend your vacations with him, but when he actually gazed at your endearing eyes he just had to submit to your enchantments and say yes.
"Only because you look at me like that."
"I'll go put my swimsuit on," you said once the two of you had finally arrived at your beach house.
He nodded and put his own swimsuit on. He was planning on wearing a modest one, yet he didn't want to get his skin damaged by the Sun in case he had totake his shirt off and that's why he needed your help to put sunscreen on his back.
You came out of the changing room with your new swimsuit and he tried not to pay attention to it.
"Could you please help me, darling?" he asked as he grinned.
"Of course, handsome."
The sunscreen made it quise easy for your fingers to softly slid against his back, nape and shoulders first. Then you continued with his chest and his slightly toned abs. Nonetheless, when your hands went up to his face you noticed how flustered he had grown.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, no, it's nothing, I can..." he muttered nervously, "I can do that by myself."
"You'll do your arms and legs. Let me finish with your face, alright?"
The blond tried to look away from your eyes. Letting you see him acting that shy would be a bit... embarrassing. And to make it worse, you kissed his jaw.
"Thank you, my love."
"It's your time to help me out though." You turned your back to him.
"Sure," he said. And he did what you asked him to with a bit of hesitation. Letting his fingertips caress your bare back and shoulders felt too good to be true.
Once he was done putting the sunscreen on you, you ran to the pool and when you came out of it your whole body was soaking wet. The Sun made your skin colour look more stunning if that's even possible in his eyes.
"What are you looking at?" you frowned rather playfully.
William walked towards you and placed his hands against your waist before pulling you into a deep, desired kiss.
"Gorgeous. You look gorgeous. Don't look this gorgeous if you don't want me to die from a heart attack or to kiss you until we never go back home," he spoke.
You threw your arms around his neck and immediately kissed him again. Yet you didn't realize how hard you pulled him, and both of you ended up falling into the pool.
Liam looked at you and started laughing when he saw how suprised you were. Soon you were both a laughing mess.
"Do I even have to tell you you look gorgeous as well?" You ran your fingers through his now wet hair, earning a smile from your dearest.
"Do I really, pretty woman?" He smirked.
"Yes, you do, precious man." Soon he was sitting on the stairs of the pool as you were almost pinning him against the wall of it. "Why are you blushing so hard though? Just calm down."
He could only manage to chuckle and bury his face into the crook of your neck, placing a few kisses here and there.
"You know why, (Name)," he whispered.
You teased him with more and more kisses all over his face.
"(Name)..." he softly moaned. "It tickles."
You didn't mind overwhelming him. In fact, that was pretty much your intention.
You two went to the sea many hours later and held each other's hands. It was already late at night, so you could see the moonlight stroking your boyfriend's soft skin, which was truly a sight to behold. This time he was the one who caught you staring at him, but instead of teasing you like you would've done, he just blushed and smiled innocently at you.
You gave him a little peck on the lips and noticed the subtle yet obvious salty taste on them. Were his cheeks pink because he had been sunkissed or because he was simply infatuated with you?
"It's too dark here, Liam. We should go back to our house and-"
He didn't even let you finish. He had felt the need to pull you closer to him.
"Can't you just... eat my heart, crawl into my skin and become one with me for once and for all? I need you."
Your eyes widened at his odd request and tried to utter at least one word despite having gone absolutely weak now.
"I need to feel your warmth to another level, (Name). Please, I don't know what to do." He was basically whimpering and you found that this was making you dizzy (in a strangely nice way).
"That's why we should go back home, my angel. I'll help you there. You'll find out how soon," you said as you grabbed his hand and took him to your house, to the heaven of your bed.
#william james moriarty#moriarty the patriot#yuukoku no moriarty#mtp william#ynm#yuumori#william james moriarty x reader#Spotify
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Have you seen the leaked TOH pilot and pitch bible yet? IMO it’s crazy how most of it is better than the final product.
I have! And... I don't know if I entirely agree with that.
What I found most fascinating about it is that a lot of the contradictions and issues of scope with TOH that doomed it are still in the pitch bible itself. Just some quick examples of what I'm talking about:
When talking about themes, they talk about Fantasy versus Reality but it's as shallow as it is in the show. After all, one of the episode concepts pitched within it features a plot that has Luz literally going "This is just like in my fanfiction!" and being better able to handle it because of that.
It builds up the emperor of the land and Belos (known as Oberon) when talking about them but NONE of the plotlines include Oberon in the episode pitches or even mention the coven system for that matter. They are still barely a thing to the show with the only episode concept about that part of the show being the one about William.
An utter lack of real stakes like how King has to face the deep crises of a decision of either being a lackey to the people he used to run with while also losing any chance to ever reclaim his lost power... Or he can save Eda and Luz and lose the chance to work with these people again. That's not really a compelling decision, is it?
The pitch also claims that the show will mostly be about Luz and Eda's relationship and how Luz's determination will push Eda to be a better person... And most of the episodes pitched are still not actually about the two spending time together. Just Eda making Luz upset so she goes off to do her own thing, just like the same problem as in the actual series.
You actually have MORE characters in this version which sucks harder for trying to narrow things down, especially since more of them are disconnected from each other than before. At least Boscha, unlike Pascha, has a connection to literally anyone in the main cast.
You also have stupidity with your magic still. "Look! I need to work hard to make small objects float!" And apparently that's enough to make all of Hexside lose their fucking minds. WHY!? In 90% of settings, that is as basic as the light spell Luz learns. It's why it's one of the first spells Harry learns.
Oh and let's not forget "Almost all known portals to the human realm have been severed" but apparently Amity has access to one of those known portals freely enough to attend two schools. It's a small thing but it would cause problems in theory.
BUT.
I will give credit to this: Luz is MUCH more compelling in this version. I think if there is something that is just unequivocally true, it's that. She is way less inoffensively nerdy, instead her interests being more upfront and troublesome, helping explain why that would be why she is rejected and not because, you know, she puts people in danger. Also her rise to power is just better.
Arguably, Luz in canon is a chosen one essentially from episode FOUR onwards. Now, this is up for debate but being given a power almost out of nowhere, with no training, that no one else has, is usually a sign of a chosen in a narrative. Episode 4 is when she gets the light glyph. She doesn't work for it, it's not a big character growth moment, etc. like that. She mostly just oops into it. Making it that Luz ACTUALLY has to work for her magic and the show actually has to explore how the magic works, making it so she has something to learn is just strictly better, especially for the concept of her learning to be a witch. Eda would actually be able to teach her something instead of shrugging and going "Welp, good luck!"
I will say that the bible does also lean more into an adventurous aspect though. This version of episodes would easily be more fantastical and include more magic in them which would help the Isles not feel so much like our realm. I will say the fact that there's also active anti-human prejudice also would be good because then Luz being human would, you know... Matter. Not that the Isles is really given a personality even here besides the oppression they're theoretically under. It's still a very generic fantasy setting.
A lot of the rest though? It's really not that unique or different from the show itself. Lilith is almost exactly the same, Tibbles is just Gus but a demon, there are slightly more restrictions on things like being human or magic but, you know, the show didn't care about its one law, why would it care about three? Even Amity, who does look better on here, is only because it's on paper. This is literally just Amity's pitch in S1 after all. All the reasons people loved Amity are here.
Conceptually it is fine but I am surprised about how not only this got picked up but also how it was greenlit so heavily as to get a pilot animatic, with voice acting, based on these concepts. There's just some very clear cleaning up that needs to be done, basic questions on its own setting and own logic that isn't even playing into the comedy/fantasy angles that could let you let it pass. It's not all of them or even the majority but a skeptical prereader could even raise these basic sorts of inconsistencies like the ones I brought up above. After all, this is half a season's worth of episodes pitched and a fifth of them are still going to Amity and more of them have Luz directly interacting with King than they do Eda.
There's a final thing I have to bring up due to it being why I think the show changed so drastically from this pitch bible to its final form: This is way more complicated. TOH already has extremely decompressed storytelling and too many elements working in tandem. Meanwhile, every character is MORE complicated in this one and less connected to each other, necessitating that each, except maybe Eda, will take more time to get through their stuff. The writing team either had to sharpen how much they could do in an episode or simplify and congregate elements. We see this a LOOOOT in S2A, especially Escaping Expulsion, where it seems the writers went "Even with three whole seasons planned, we don't have enough time to do everything we want to, the way we like to, so we need to start cutting and simplifying even more than before."
One example of this that's really easy: In the pitch bible, Willow is a random witch who lives near Eda. Well that means she'll likely either take time out of a couple episodes as she's introduced or take up an entire episode just for herself. Tibbles is also just on their own, like in the show. Introducing both of these characters is not really an option. However, put them both into Hexside and suddenly you can introduce three characters at the same time organically, like we saw with I Was a Teenage Abomination.
Luz just being gifted magic is another element to this. Her having to actually experiment for every spell and having to have a real system to her spells limits what she can do but also means spending a LOT more time on her magic. You can't just have a flower open up and give her the glyph of the day as easily, nor have her be able to throw her spells around as she wants. Making it so she just needs reams of paper and/or a marker makes it a lot easier and simpler to have her start casting magic.
This version of TOH would have SHATTERED under its own scope while the current version mostly bends and cracks from it. However, if people do use this to go "FUCK DISNEY EVEN HARDER!" I won't be surprised. Grand scope ALWAYS looks better on paper than it does in action. It sounds epic and multi-faceted and complex. The problem is that it still has to fit its format and it is MUCH harder to execute on than a more simple concept.
There's a reason the only perfect project is the one you never do because you can promise the world without ever having to deliver. So, while it's nice to see an earlier version, I am by no means going to say this would have been a better version of TOH.
======+++++======
Sorry for anyone hoping for a link to the pitch bible btw. I just don't have one as I got given it as a document.
I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!
I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past.
I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead.
If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.
A Twitter you can follow too
And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.
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