#man i was trying to write fanfiction
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aries and the turtle.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,169 words
Warnings: None
asterism (noun): a group of stars; a constellation; a cluster of stars
The first thought that comes to Sanji’s mind when he sees you curled up on the kitchen floor, rummaging through the box of herbs and spices, is that you’re the single most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on.
“Darling,” he says softly, leaning against the doorframe and smiling a bit when you startle, “you could’ve woken me up if you wanted a midnight snack.”
“O-Oh! Um.” Your voice colors the gentle calm of night into something warmer – and like always, he’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame, walking over and squatting down next to you as you scramble to put back a jar of paprika. “I’m sorry, Sanji, I – er, well, um …”
“What are you looking for? I’ll help you.”
Under the yellow glow of the lantern, you seem to shrink. You duck your head and mumble into the collar of your pretty nightshirt. “That chamomile and lavender tea you made a couple nights ago …” you begin hesitantly. “I wanted to make some.” Your voice quiets further. “I can’t sleep.”
Sanji frowns, angling his head to catch a glimpse of your face. You do look a little more haggard than normal, your eyelids heavy, your shoulders burdened. His heart aches. How long had you laid in your hammock, tossing and turning, until you couldn’t stand it anymore?
“I see,” he murmurs. “Let’s make that tea right away, then, shall we?”
Sanji quickly finds the flowers and some lemon rinds he had sun-dried last week. You insist on helping at least a little bit despite his protests for you to just relax, fetching two teacups and setting some water on the stove to boil as he measures the right amount of each ingredient to put into the infuser.
Once the water is ready, steam billowing up past your heads and to the ceiling, he pours it into the teapot and covers it to steep.
(You don’t say anything while the two of you wait, and although Sanji yearns to coax a smile and a sweet conversation from you, he contents himself with the silence as well, which is just as sweet. You sneak glances at him every once in a while, though. He knows because he does the same, and the attention sends a thrill through his chest.)
Time passes. He pours the tea – first for you, then for him.
“Tell me when.” The silence breaks once more as Sanji spoons some honey into your cup.
“That’s good.”
He stirs the tea up, hands it to you. You blow across the top of it and then take a sip as he watches attentively.
“How does the madam like it?” he asks.
You exhale and meet his eyes for a split second before quickly looking away. A small smile touches your lips. “It’s perfect,” you reply from behind the cup. “Thank you, Sanji.”
Warmth stains his cheeks a gentle pink.
“The sky is clear tonight,” he ventures hopefully as he adds two teaspoons of honey for himself. He picks up his cup and gestures at the open door. “Stars and tea pair well together, if you have an appetite for it.”
You bite your bottom lip. His gaze immediately darts down to it, and he swallows, throat suddenly dry.
“Sure,” you whisper.
And so Sanji gains another precious sliver of time with you. Elbows resting on the railing, hot tea and your presence protecting him from the cold, he stands out on the deck of the Going Merry and tilts his head back to look up at the sky.
He knows how much you love the stars. They are one of the few topics you can talk about without your usual shyness, and he thinks of you every time he sees them, pinpricks of pure light shining through the darkness, guiding weary sailors home. Sometimes he thinks you must have been one yourself, carried down from the heavens. Ethereal. Out of reach.
“This time of year,” you say, and Sanji turns his attention over to the stars reflected in your eyes, “you can see my constellation.”
“Yours?” he questions.
“Yes. Those three stars over there.” Your arm stretches out to point at something on the left, your finger tracing an arc in the sky. “In my home village, parents dedicate their newborns to a constellation three days after birth. Mine dedicated me to the turtle.”
A turtle. That fits you incredibly well, he thinks to himself fondly, considering your quiet tenacity. “How come?”
“Turtles represent good luck and a long life.”
“I see. Well, do you think you’ve had good luck so far in life?”
You hum thoughtfully, looking down into your tea.
“I think so,” you say after some time, hushed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
A chuckle escapes him. “I would argue that you’re the one who’s brought good luck to us, sweetheart.”
You bite back a smile and whisper a small ‘oh’ as he gently bumps your shoulder with his own. Even now, you’re unused to compliments, but no matter; he’ll praise you at every turn until you finally realize you deserve every word of it.
There’s a brief period of silence before he asks, “What do you think my constellation would be?”
“Your constellation?” It doesn’t take long at all before you reply, pointing upward into a spread of stars that he could never even begin to puzzle out, “The ram. Some call it Aries.”
“What does it mean?”
This question seems to fluster you. You cough and stammer for a few seconds. He sips his tea, the beverage sweet and floral on his tongue as he waits.
“Rams … are artists at heart,” you finally say, glancing over at him. Your eyes, normally wary and somber, glitter. “They’re strong and passionate, but also gentle and kind.”
Oh.
Sanji can feel a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. God. Surely, you’ll be the death of him, saying something like that so honestly and with eyes that look like that. He’d move heaven and earth for you if you asked.
“I’ll dedicate my life to living up to those qualities,” he breathes once he can speak again. “Just as much as you’ll live up to yours.”
You take a sharp breath.
“You already do,” he hears you whisper.
And Sanji truly, truly cannot resist anymore.
Your name leaves his lips. He reaches out, hand departing from the dying heat of the teacup and seeking out yours.
You do not pull away when his fingertips brush your cool skin over the railing; instead, you let him turn your hand over until palm touches palm, until the spaces between his fingers are filled with your own and his heart beats to the rhythm of yours.
Sanji squeezes your hand, and every cell in his body begs to falter and fall at your feet.
You rest your head on his shoulder.
The tea cools. But the stars remain as brilliant as ever, and your hand stays warm in his, and everything – everything is beautiful.
#aesthetic words prompt list#opla#one piece#sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#opla sanji#one piece live action#opla fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#reader insert#trying to write from sanji's pov is like. how can i show that this man is absolutely on his knees all the time for reader#just look at him. just.look.asdhgjkl#also i just think !! looking at the stars would be a great date idea w any of the straw hats while at sea#:<
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Strawberries and Cream
I’m doing so good with this
Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader
Word count: 6.4k
Part One
🔪remember to reblog🔪
Notes: Im currently writing this while finishing chapter one lmao. No because if you ever see a “/“ in my work you better tell me RIGHT NEYOW because I don’t write things in order I skip whole scenes and then go back to that slash and write in what happens until it gets to the scene I wrote and if that’s there that means it’s about to get CONFUSING and I just forgot to write it. P.S I love it but I’m so sick of reading this chapter 🤣🤣🤣
Chapter 2: Zoo Daze
Eddie takes his time shaving, his hands are shaking so badly he’s afraid he’s gonna slice his throat or something. Buck is sitting on his bed, looking over outfit options.
“So like… this is just a friend thing?” He asks Eddie as he makes a face at the green T-shirt, tossing it aside. He grabs the navy blue shirt and lays it over the jeans then takes a white sling bag from the closet. He pulls out his phone, clicking a few buttons before taking a picture.
“Yeah, just a friend thing” Eddie calls out from the bathroom “I just…I don’t wanna move too fast for her”
“Did you already imagine the dog?” Buck teases as he settles on Eddie’s beat-up Chuck Taylor’s, Eddie calls them “vintage” Buck calls him cheap.
“Leave Captain Barkley out of this, what did he ever do to you” Eddie walks out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel.
“Does she get to redecorate the house too? Because I know my cousin, you’re gonna be buried in stuffed animals”
“If that’s what she wants” Eddie tosses the towel down and looks over Buck's choices, shrugging as he starts getting dressed. “Trust me, I already know our styles are gonna fit. And even if they don’t we’ll just have a unique style together y’know? I’m easygoing, okay, you know that.”
Buck tosses him his cologne and Eddie sprays it on, putting on the teeniest, tiniest bit extra just so it’ll cling to you too. He fixes his hair one last time in the mirror and turns to Buck, his arms open.
“How do I look?” He does a spin, before crossing his arms over his chest. Buck studies him, narrowing his eyes before he gets up and goes through Eddie’s dresser, he grabs a nicer-looking watch and hands it to him
“This is gonna be weird” He stands against Eddie, leaning into his neck and inhaling slowly. His hands trail up his sides and he puts his hands on his chest. He smirks as his eyes roll back and he pulls away.
“Okay cool, you didn’t put too much on” He gives him a double thumbs up and Eddie rolls his eyes, chuckling.
“Pervert, you know you just wanted to feel me up”
“Are you gonna blame me?!” Buck throws his hands in the air in defense “And I swear I was making sure you didn’t put on too much cologne okay? And that’s probably the way Y/N would feel you up if you guys kiss so I gotta make sure your shirt is soft enough bro I’m looking out for you okay”
“Mhm I bet you are”
It’s cute how things are almost the same at Maddie’s house. She’s sitting on her bed, looking through all the clothes you brought over, phone in hand. You’re in the bathroom doing your hair, braiding it back.
“So it’s just a friend thing right?” She asks as she picks up a pink dress, tossing it aside.
“Yeah, that’s what we agreed on,” You say, coming out and taking off your robe, you toss it on the bed and Maddie hands you a blue and white gingham dress, with spaghetti straps and a tie in front. It’s short and playful, but still extremely cute
“Oh, and these!” She gets up, goes to her closet, and pulls out a pair of matching light blue Chuck Taylor’s “Chim got them for me before the pregnancy, they don’t exactly fit anymore” she chuckles as she tosses them on the floor in front of you
“You’re sure this isn’t too dressy?” You sound a bit worried as she ties the little bow in front and smiles at you
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s not too dressy. You look really good” She turns you around and grabs a white bow from the bed, putting it in your hair. She brushes off your shoulders and nods approvingly as she pushes you towards the mirror
“See? You look amazing! He’s gonna go crazy over you”
“We’re just friends Mads” You roll your eyes playfully “He’s not gonna go crazy over me”
“Hey, Eddie can appreciate beauty when he sees it, alright.” She smirks, Chim walks in, a smoothie in his hand.
“Oh heyyy, lookin' good Y/N I see what you’re doing there”
You giggle and Maddie pats your butt “See! You’re gonna be just fine, girly!”
Maddie helps you put on makeup, just a light, natural, look. She hands you the tube of strawberry lipgloss and you put it on, blowing a little kiss towards Chim who wolf whistles at you
“Okay. Maybe he’ll go a tiny bit crazy” You giggle as you spray your perfume over yourself. “He should be here soon, he said he’d be here at 10… is he normally on time?” You pack up your white mini backpack, stuffing a few snacks in there too.
“Usually yeah,” Chim says, swinging his feet as he sits on the bed. “Especially on dates”
“Does he date often?” You apply a little glitter to your collarbones just for funsies.
“No, not…for a while. But that’s kinda his story to tell. You’re the first in a while”
“I’m not the first” Your cheeks flush “It’s just two friends hanging out okay? And… that’s sort of good to know, at least I know what topic to avoid. Not that I’m trying to start a conversation about a relationship.”
Maddie rolls her eyes but allows it. It’s wildly clear to everyone you’re both smitten… hopefully, this is a good little push.
“Anyway” Maddie interrupts, the doorbell rings, there’s a weird commotion and then the front door slams.
“It’s me! It’s actually us, I asked for a ride” Buck says as he comes jogging into the bedroom. He stops when he sees you, absolutely melting. He clasps his hands together
“Awwwww oh my god. You look like a doll!!!” He comes over and hugs you, squeezing you. “Our baby is growing up!!!” He wipes a fake tear and you pat his back gingerly
“Thanks, Dad.” You snicker and Maddie pushes Buck away, threatening to punch him if he ruins your makeup.
“Hey isn’t Eddie outside” Chim points, getting up to get the door
“Oh my god, I totally forgot about that,” Buck says, his hands on his hips. “Wait- Wait Chim you gotta be cool you gotta be a dad! This is great practice!”
“Yeah. Yeah okay, a dad!” He grabs his smoothie cup and straightens out his shirt before smoothing his hair back.
“Oh my god. Let Eddie in!!!” Maddie yells at them and they both scramble out of the bedroom.
Maddie walks in front of you as you come out of the bedroom, Eddie hugs her and kisses her on the cheek before seeing you.
“Hey Y/N, you ready to…-“ he short circuits for a second, just staring at you. Buck shakes Chim and they hold onto each other.
He’s not even really being dramatic, god how could he be? If this is you for a “friend” date what the hell would you look like on a real date? He can practically see little puppy Captain Barkley Diaz now.
“Am I ready to?…-“ you smile up at him, batting your eyelashes teasingly. Earth isn’t even possible right now. He comes as close as Jupiter is as he looks down at you. You’re even matching, he’s not sure if it was on purpose or not but it’s cute it’s literally so damn cute.
“Um- uh. The… zoo are you ready to go to the zoo” He asks calmly, almost monotonously like he’d been practicing it on the way over.
“I’m ready!” You tell him excitedly, taking his hand and yanking on it.
“Let’s jet!”
Maddie and the boys wave you both off as you walk out, he opens the door for you, taking your hand and helping you up into the car. It’s Buck’s jeep, he practically demanded the two of you take it and said he cleaned it just for this occasion.
Eddie gets in, making sure you’re buckled in before turning on the jeep “You can play whatever you want”
You fiddle around with your phone for a second, hooking it up to the aux, and start scrolling through your playlists
“Okay this is just intimidating,” You say as you put on a random playlist
“Oh come on, you don’t want to show me who you are through music?” He smirks as he starts driving
“What if you think my music is trash?”
“I’m not gonna think your music is trash” he reassures you by turning up the volume.
It’s a fun mix of everything you like, you catch him mumbling along to “Oops…I did it again” he fully denies that one, but he does however proudly sing backups to “Wannabe and Too Much” by the Spice Girls. You’re both just messing around and having a good time… but of course, he can sing. His voice gives you chills and whilst you’re not so bad yourself it’s just a lot to handle.
“Sporty Spice carried those vocals,” Eddie says as he opens the car door for you, helping you out
“Buck says the same thing” You snort as you walk towards the entrance.
You guys stand in line together, you’re looking around the main lobby, it’s a pretty nice one. You look up at him, smiling widely
“I’m literally so excited, I hope they have elephants, I’ve always wanted to see an elephant!!”
“I’m pretty sure they do, we’ll get a map for you” Eddie takes your hand, his phone is scanned for the tickets and you head inside.
You’re like a child again, running around to each exhibit and pulling Eddie after you. He’s happy to take pictures of you with all the animals and you do the same. A woman comes over and offers to take a picture of the two of you, your cheeks flush as he hands her the phone and puts his arms around you, setting his head on your shoulder. You look at him just in time for the lady to take the picture
“Oh my god, you guys are so cute!!” She squeals, handing him back his phone
“Thank you” He smirks haughtily at you and you give his chest a whack.
“People are gonna think we’re together”
“Is that so bad?”
It’s not so bad, not really. You roll your eyes and look down at the map, your mouth drops open and you practically shove it in his face
“Look!!! They do have elephants!” You squeal as you grab his hand, and yank him with you. He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet. It doesn’t even bother him in the least, watching you so excited and happy makes him feel giddy. Especially knowing he’s the one who brought you here.
You stop in front of the elephants, your head tilting up to stare at them
“Oh my god…” you say softly, staring at the gigantic animal in front of you. Your eyes are wide and sparkly… Eddie takes a picture of you, one he’ll keep to himself. You look euphoric and he knows he’s going to be hugging his phone to his chest and kicking his feet whenever he sees it again.
He wishes he could freeze this moment in time for you, you look over at him and his heart skips a beat at the smile on your face
“Isn’t it cool?” You giggle and he nods, a bit dumbly
“Uh-huh”
The butterflies around him don’t compare to the ones raging in his stomach, throwing an all-out rave.
You both sit in front of the elephants for a while, he eventually puts his arms around you and you lean into him, just watching them mess around in their habitat
“You wanna stay here all day? Or would you rather check out more animals”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing some Tigers”
You and Eddie end up on The Bridge, it’s a large structure high over the outdoor area for big cats. You find a place near a pair of binoculars and look down over the edge. You read from the information panel in front of you, learning all about Sean and Rhonda the tigers that live there.
Eddie is busy listening to you and looking through the binoculars when he gets eyes on Sean
“Huh… I wonder why he’s pacing like that. Been doing that for a while” Eddie aims the little binoculars at him again before stepping aside and giving you a chance to look through them at the tiger. He seems to be almost studying something. You look around for a bit, looking through the trees.
“Hey…Eddie?” You point towards a particularly odd-looking branch. “That- that kind of looks really easy for him to jump onto don’t you think?”
Eddie looks where you’re pointing, and he reaches out for your hand “Yeah it kind of freaking do-“
All hell breaks loose before he can even finish his sentence. The tiger takes a running start and jumps onto the tree, scaling it easily and heading straight for that branch. He’s out of his enclosure within 20 seconds. The bridge shakes as he lands.
You’re knocked over almost immediately as people start running and screaming, pushing each other out of the way to get away. The tiger roars before racing off in the opposite direction.
“Eddie?!”You scream for him. You’re on the ground, trying to push yourself up when you feel strong hands yank you up by your waist and you get thrown over someone’s shoulder.
You’re struggling a bit, before Eddie sets you down and pulls you with him, running to a little alcove outside the tiger exhibit. He hurries along, trying the doors until one finally gives.
“In here!” Eddie finds an unlocked supply closet and shoves you in first before rushing in behind you and slamming the door shut. You collapse on your butt, propped against the wall. You’re panting harshly, your hands shaking as Eddie gets down, crawling over to you
“Hey, hey look at me, are you okay?” He puts his hands on your face, his eyes searching your body frantically. You can feel his hands shaking just as hard as yours as he feels over your face. You’re a bit scuffed up and dirty but the tiger didn’t rip you to shreds so really it seems like a win.
“I’m- y-yeah no, no I’m okay. I’m okay. I think. I-“
He yanks you against his chest, burying his face in your neck as he holds you.
“Don’t ever let go of my hand again, do you understand me?” He pants, one hand on the back of your head and the other, fingers splayed across your back, squishing you against him. “God please never let go”
It takes a while for Eddie to calm down, you’re just sitting in his lap as he holds you close, rocking you slowly. You’re not sure who’s being comforted more, you or him. You can hear both of your phones blowing up in your pockets, the fire fam has gotten wind of what happened but neither of you wants to move to answer them. He rubs your side lovingly, his head on top of yours
“You doin' okay?” He asks, a bit more level-headed this time, his voice soft and even.
“Yeah but-“ You point to your knee, it’s pretty scraped up and bloody. He frowns, as he looks it over, he should have asked sooner. It’s not too bad but it definitely needs to be taken care of. He sets you down on the floor and takes off his bag.
“Are you doing okay?” You ask and he looks up at you, a grimace on his face and you decide not to push him on it. You look around the supply closet, it’s cool and dark, and there’s a window letting in a bit of light. You’re sort of hoping the Tiger isn’t smart enough to open doors, even if in theory that would be super cool.
“You know this has got to be the coolest day of my life” You snicker as Eddie takes out the supplies from his emergency kit. He’s finally able to part with you for the time being, he’s gotta put this first. This is his job, he can do it.
“Coolest huh? Why is that?”
He’s so concentrated on what he’s doing, using his “Fireman’s” voice. He pulls the antiseptic from the bag, his movements are fluid and practiced, he doesn’t even warn you when he goes to disinfect the wound, just immediately blots it.
You hiss in pain, jerking a little and he looks up at you “Why was it so cool?” He asks again softly, rubbing your leg. It’s distracting, he didn’t want to use that particular disinfectant because he knew it would sting but it was the best he had. He doesn’t stop blotting at it, but he does blow on it as he goes.
“A whole ass Tiger escaped its enclosure! And I got to see it happen!!” You tell him, watching him carefully as he cleans you up.
“I’m gonna be so real, I nearly shit my pants. That was terrifying.”
You laugh together as he reaches back in the kit, getting a large tan bandaid.
“You know, death by tiger? Would have been literally the most metal way to go out” You say, watching his skilled hands. Is it weird to say he’s super hot when he’s being all “hero, rescue, firefighter guy?”
“I think the only way it would be cooler was if you died fighting the tiger to save a child”
Your head falls back and you cover your mouth laughing.
“I’m glad you saved me though… Thank you. I could have gotten trampled… you’re like… really strong”
“Hey it’s my job to be strong,” He says, smiling as he looks up at you. He puts the bandaid on you and then reaches back into his kit, putting a cute Hello Kitty bandaid over the large tan one. “And I’ll always save you Y/N. I promise”
The announcement comes over the speakers that the tiger has been contained and that Investigators want to talk to everyone on the bridge. Eddie knows he shouldn’t. But he sneaks the two of you out of the zoo anyway, he’ll call the zoo later and tell them what happened. It’s well- a zoo in there right now and he just needs peace, and he can tell you’re just as frazzled. He helps you into the jeep and then gets in, slamming the door shut. It’s silent, there’s no screaming, no running…no growling. Just silence.
You lean your head on his shoulder, your hand still in his, and you rub soothing circles on the back of his hand. It’s a good 20 minutes before he finally turns on the car. It kind of seems like the chaos and screaming got to him and you’re a bit worried.
“I know a really good diner if you’re hungry, best diner you’ll ever go to I promise” He finally speaks up. He sets your hand on his thigh and you squeeze it lightly, leaving it there
“Yeah okay sounds good, but if you’re lying I’m gonna spray you with the hose.”
He snorts as he pulls out of the parking lot and rolls his eyes “How are you even gonna get the hose?”
“You honestly think Buck wouldn’t give it to me? And be there right behind me as I’m spraying you down? Like Chim and Hen wouldn’t be filming it!”
“I think at least Bobby would save me!!”
You giggle and slap his thigh playfully “He’s gonna be the one controlling the water”
You plop down in the booth across from Eddie, leaning back against the plush seating. The waitress drops two menus in front of you both and promises to come back soon with water to get you started.
“Do you know what you want?” Eddie asks as he leans forward, his arms on the table, his hand cradling his chin.
“Probably that burger” you shrug, laying your head down on your arm on the table. You’re both exhausted. Now that the adrenaline has worn off it’s time for a serious nap
“Yeah, same” he agrees, laying his head down with you. He reaches over, taking your hand in his as he closes his eyes. You smile softly as he rubs circles with his thumb over it. The waitress hesitantly approaches the table setting your water down
“You two seem exhausted” She smiles as she takes out her book
“You have no idea” Eddie chuckles, sitting up. He orders for the two of you, two bacon cheeseburgers with grilled onions and two strawberry lemonades. It’s like he knows how to read your heart at this point
The waitress- Annie, writes down your orders and sticks her pen back in her book
“That’ll be out soon! Oh my god have you two heard about the tiger escaping at the zoo? It’s all over everything already”
“Oh trust me. We heard” Eddie tells her, handing her the menus while she talks about it for a little bit before walking away to put in the orders, you look up at Eddie and shake your head
“I’m 90 percent sure I’m gonna have tiger PTSD”
He snorts and intertwines your fingers together again, shaking your hand a little. “As someone who actively denies? PTSD yeah no definitely can confirm absolute tiger PTSD”
You giggle, watching your hands together before looking at him curiously “Actively denies…-?” You leave it open-ended and he nods
“Don’t wanna talk about it though. Please if that’s okay”
“No no, it’s fine” you reassure him, squeezing his hand “Just…. I’m here for you. I’m sure you probably hear that a lot. But I do mean it, Eddie. You’re not alone”
“Eh… sometimes it feels like it” He admits, staring at your hands “No one knows what I went through you know? It’s just rough I guess. I don’t know, I’ll get over it.”
You look at him, a sad smile on your face “You won’t get over it Eddie… not, not without help. But you know what, I just met you. This is kind of our first hangout. I'm not going to go down this road with you right now unless you’d like to. It’s not exactly my place”
“Hey we survived a wild tiger mauling together, I think it’s your place” he jokes with you, lightening the mood, you giggle and shake your head
“I’m glad I escaped with my arm. He really went to town on it.”
Lunch is nice, Eddie was right this is the best diner you’ve ever been to.
“Oh my god” You moan around your bite and he nods, laughing as he bites his burger. “Told you I knew what I was talking about”
“I promise to never doubt you again, you know until I completely forget this moment” You steal an onion ring and he smirks, taking one of your fries.
“Don’t worry I’ll remember it for you”
You two eat together in silence, a “companionable” silence. You’re looking out the window and he’s on his phone for a bit before slipping it back in his pocket. It’s nice to be around him…everything is always so good when it comes to him.
“What should we do after this?” You ask as you dip a fry in ketchup. He watches you for a bit before shrugging
“If you wanted, We could go out somewhere else. Or maybe we could just hang out somewhere… something laid back. I- I want to keep hanging out with you, I do. But-”
“We just got semi-attacked by a tiger and now we’re sitting here staring off into space”
“Yeahhh..” He sighs, grabbing an onion ring. He tears it in half, giving you one.
“If uh… if you’re up for it maybe we could just… go relax at my place? For a bit? It’s close to here and the couch is pretty comfy”
You grin widely, taking the half of onion ring and tossing it into your mouth
“Sounds good to me”
“Here we are, home sweet home” Eddie pulls into his driveway and shuts off the car. It’s around 4 pm but neither of you wanted the day to end and honestly, maybe you’re just still wanting to be by his side for a bit. He gets out and comes around, opening the door for you.
“Such a gentleman” You tease as you hop out, he flicks you off and shuts the door, locking it behind him. He lets you in the front door first, and you look around. It's very clean and put together, definitely a bit masculine in decoration. You slip off your shoes and go into the house
“Nice place you got here,” you tell him and he smiles, putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you over to the living room
“Thanks, Buck crashes here like… a lot. So you’ll probably find some of his stuff too if you feel like changing, or I can offer you something. Not that you’re not still looking absolutely stunning you know, just if you wanted to change. Can I get you something to drink?”
You look around the living room already spotting a pair of your cousin's shoes
“Yeah sure, thanks. And maybe I’ll change, I haven’t decided yet. You can though if you want to”
He walks away to get the drinks and you look at the pictures he has around, some of them are of the team and his friends. One of him in a military uniform with a group of people. Huh…that explains a little at least.
“So this is where I would be staying huh?” You smirk playfully as Eddie comes back into the living room, he hands you a bottle of tea and you crack it open. You turn away from the photos pretending you haven’t gotten that far.
“Yeah, I suppose it is” he chuckles. He motions with his bottle and you follow after him, he’s got a spare room, it’s a pretty decent size. “This would be your room… I mean if you wanted. I’d even give you the main if you wanted it”
You look around the room, it’s simple, bright, and airy. He says that and you whirl around “There’s no way in hell I’d take your bedroom from you! Especially if I was staying here”
He puts his hands up in defense and laughs lightly “Hey I’m an easygoing guy alright? I just want you to be comfortable- or no-. I would want you to be comfortable”
“Comfortable is this, Eddie. I wouldn’t take your bedroom away from you”
“Who knows,” he turns on his heel as he leaves the room “Maybe we can just share mine”
Your mouth drops open and you race after him “Hey! Hey, you get back here!”
Eddie refuses to acknowledge anything you say on the topic of what he just said, acting innocent and batting his eyelashes
“I think you’re hearing things” His voice was high-pitched and sweet. You shove him down onto the couch and sit next to him crossing your arms over your chest and huffing. It gets a few giggles out of him but he still doesn’t address it no matter how much you pout.
Eventually, like a toddler, you tire yourself out and just sit on the couch with him. There is a seat between you but it just feels like more than that. You pull your feet up on the couch and lay your head on the armrest staring at the SpongeBob episode on screen. The fish on screen is screaming about chocolate and you hear Eddie chuckle
“Are you joking?” You giggle as you turn your head to look at him
“This is literally classic SpongeBob. I'm not supposed to find it funny?” He asks, clearly wounded as he takes the throw blanket from the back of the couch, he opens his arm to you. “C’mere hater” he motions with his hand and you push up from the armrest, scooting across the mile-long seat in between the two of you and curling up into his side. He throws the blanket over the two of you and you grab onto his shirt.
“Yeah okay, I guess… I mean I still quote the paper skin thing so”
Eddie snickers as his hand lays on your thigh, he rubs soft, soothing circles, that send chills up your spine
“I’m like pretty sure Buck and I were literally just screaming chocolate last week anyway”
You cuddle together, watching SpongeBob for a few hours. It’s comforting and mind-numbing, it feels good to be in his arms. Eventually, you do take him up on his offer and he gives you a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. You change into them and plop back down with him, his outfit almost identical. It’s around nine when he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling
“Chinese sound good?” He asks and you look up at him, your eyes a little sleepy
“For what”
“Dinner?” It sounds like a question more than an answer “I figured it’s been a while since we ate…and I didn’t go grocery shopping so like..-“
“Okay yeah, that sounds good. What’s your cash app?” You pull out your phone and he takes it from you immediately, tossing it across the couch
“Eddie!!”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you pay for it so just shut up and say thank you”
“Why didn’t you just not tell me your cash app??” You look at him, and he stops for a second, narrowing his eyes as he thinks.
“Mmm…yeah that was probably a better idea”
You sit up and snatch your phone from the other side of the couch, punching him in the side is a given, and then you lay back against him. He’s laid on the couch, his head comfortably resting on the pillows and you’re on top of him a bit, most of your body buried into the side of the couch.
He runs his fingers down your arm, just stroking it softly. It’s nice, it kinda tickles and you wriggle against him
“You know if I were to stay somewhere I wouldn’t mind if it was here. It’s pretty nice. You do a really good job taking care of your house”
Eddie’s heart flutters, and jumps and does like a roundhouse kick he’s not sure he just knows it’s going wild and he must have an entire butterfly farm in there cause god you’re making him all shy and giddy
“Oh? Well thanks that means a lot”
His voice is cool and even, even though he’s trying his best not to just squeeze the life out of you. Instead, he decides to squish the life out of you. He turns over and puts his arms and legs around you, you push at his chest and groan
“Eddie, you're squishing me! Get off!” Your voice is muffled as it’s buried in his chest
“Hmm my couch my rules, I’m pretty comfy right here” He purrs, holding onto you like a koala bear. You struggle underneath him until you finally give in. He’s warm and soft and overwhelms your senses, his cologne sticks to your body and you rarely wanna take this dress off
“Eddie get your fat butt off of me” you hiss and he snickers, wiggling his hips
“Wait, you think my butt is fat? Like what kinda fat? Like P-h-a-t? Or like is it Thicc with two C’s”
You’re laughing like a hyena into his chest as he goes about all the possible meanings and you slap his chest
“Double C’s maybe even triple when you’re in your work pants,” you tell him, winking dramatically
“That is literally the nicest damn compliment I have ever gotten in my entire life” He wipes a fake tear and rolls off of you, pulls you back onto him, and hugs you tightly to his chest
“Don’t worry, I like your ass too” His voice is so flirty and light. You feel his hands flow down your back, stopping just before they slide under the waistband of the basketball shorts. He easily turns his attention back toward the TV and you’re left a blushing mess on his chest.
Once the food arrives, you wander into the dining room with him, he goes to the kitchen, grabs a couple of bowls, and hands you one.
“You know most people just eat it right out of the carton,” You tell him as you spoon some rice into your bowl
“Yeah on tv maybe” he teases, using chopsticks to put an egg roll in your bowl “But we’re sharing”
You hold a piece of orange chicken up to his mouth and he takes it off your chopsticks “Yeah but how are we supposed to be cute and feed each other” you snicker and he rolls his eyes, chewing his bite
“Oh yeah because our diner experience wasn’t cute enough, holding hands at the table, stealing fries”
“Oh, so you wanted to be cute with me?” Your response is fast and cheeky and his mouth drops open
“I-Okay you know what, shut up and eat your egg roll!” He shoves your head away and you squeal laughing.
He lets you pick whatever you want to watch and you just continue with SpongeBob. You get comfy on the couch with him, your bowl in your lap as you eat together again.
“I realize now, that it’s been 650 hours… but did you ever text everyone back that we were okay?”
Eddie had texted everyone, he handled the entire storm for you, aka Buck’s 57 messages. Maddie was next in line with 34.
“Yeah of course, I told them you were okay too and just needed to shut your phone off” he scrolls through his phone for a second before showing you a picture, you’re staring out of the window of the diner. It’s a pretty picture, and surprisingly photogenic.
“Oh…Thanks” you say shyly, smiling softly at him, leaning you over, putting your head on his shoulder
“You’re the bestest friend a girl could have Eddie”
He kisses your head and lays his cheek on it “You’re welcome sugar cube, anything for you”
Eddie turns down the covers on the bed as you get ready in the bathroom. He smoothly asked you to stay the night… if awkwardly stumbling through his sentence and wringing his hands while dropping the bowl he was washing was smooth.
You’d agreed, giggling at him as you helped pick up the pieces. You said it was too late to be driving anyway and he was glad you agreed. Just a nice, happy, friendly, sleepover. A little tiny sleepover between best friends. “Bestest” she’d said.
You come out of the bathroom in just the t-shirt he’d lent you, you stuff your bra and dress into your mini backpack and put your hands on your hips
“Guess this’ll be a test drive huh?” You tease as you crawl into bed. He tucks you in and it makes you giggle when he leans down and kisses your head
“You know I am serious Y/N, if you need a place to stay my door is always open”
“I think I believe you…” You say quietly as he sits on the edge of your bed “But I just don’t know… it’s a big step, moving across the country. I- I don’t even have a job here and-“
“Hey don’t worry about that,” He says quietly shushing you “I can… I can take care of you”
You look up at him, your cheeks flushed “What are you, my sugar daddy?” you joke as you pull the covers up higher on your neck. He snickers and gets off the bed, going to the door
“Yeah sure I’m totally sugar daddy material” he snorts, his hand pauses on the light switch
“Just….just think about it okay?”
You nod at him, blushing “Yeah okay Eddie… I will.”
He shuts off the lights and closes the door, you’re plunged into darkness…alone with your thoughts.
It’s a couple of hours before your brain finally slows down…Eddie wants you to move in with him? Or at least he’s willing to let you. And like….he wants to take care of you… that’s. That’s fun. What a good friend, what an amazing friend.
Friend.
That word is getting kinda interesting, and used incredibly loosely at this point. Eddie isn’t your boyfriend…he’s your friend but like…. What if he was your boyfriend?
You frown, no. No, it’s not time to think like that, it's time to sleep.
Your eyes pop open angrily. Now it’s three in the morning and this is getting stupid. Maybe it’s because it’s pitch black? That seems reasonable, you’re used to a nightlight. Not that you wish he was there with you no sir, not that.
Not even that you’re kind of freezing… and he certainly wouldn’t want you to freeze to death…
“Eddie? Are you awake?” You ask quietly, poking your head through his door. You can see him in bed, the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window. He stirs a little and turns over
“Yeah” his voice is deep and raspy with sleep “I’m awake sugar cube, is everything okay?”
“Did I wake you?” You step into his room, shutting the door.
“I mean… yeah but I don’t wanna say it” he snickers, sitting up in bed. You pad over softly and climb in with him. You climb over him messily and he rolls his eyes as you slip under the covers. You lay on the other side of the bed, facing him. He lays down and faces you
“Hi”
“Hi”
You smile softly “Just thought you could use some company”
“Aren’t you so thoughtful?” He teases, reaching out for you. You shyly shuffle into his arms, your head resting on his chest
“This okay?” He asks quietly, you can hear his heart beating and it’s soothing. His bare chest is soft against your cheek.
“Uh huh… it’s nice”
“Yeah it is, isn’t it? He whispers into your hair. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. He didn’t even bother asking why you were there; he just knew he wanted you there. It had been a while since anyone had warmed his bed, and he hadn’t realized how deep the craving was until you were safely nestled in his arms. Friends was starting to become a very useless word, very quickly
And that didn’t bother him one bit.
#eddie diaz#eddie diaz x reader#eddie diaz x you#evan buckley#911 x reader#911 fanfic#911 fanfiction#why can’t I TAG#I’m TRYING#words by rhys#Rhys writes#reader insert#man this is getting pretty longgg#Strawberries and Cream
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i truly am excited for the numerous miguel o'hara fics flooding my feed, but as someone whose first language is spanish i have one plea:
please do not use google translate for writing sentences in spanish bc 90% of the time they will sound quite off
some recommended resources:
spanishdict
linguee
deepL
word reference is also handy for understanding the context behind certain phrases or words
or maybe a friend you know who speaks and writes spanish!!
if anyone else has suggestions please feel free to rb!
-
Edit jun 7: shameless plug to read my Miguel O‘Hara x reader fic (latine reader) if you’re interested!
#i love the love miguel is getting and it's cool seeing writers branch out and try incorporating a language they might not be familiar with#but using the above resources will help with making the spanish in your fic flow better#i also might need to write another post on the latin lover stereotype bc phewww#that's for another day lol#a lil friendly psa from a tired latina lol#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x reader#not sure if these are even the right tags?#discourse#just in case?#fanfic#there's a reason why the spanish teachers hated google translate LOL#man i also need to hop on the miguel o'hara fanfic train i'll get there
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throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess
He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)
#why yes I have been reading some phenomenal fanfiction lately#a lesser me would be agonising over my inability to ever come close to matching the#masterfully characterised works of these talented WORD WEAVERS#but envy is a spoilt housepest and we must spend less time unleashing it upon new targets#instead let's talk about how these fics discovered its possible??#to write Val as not only a 3dimensional character but a deeply horrifying person to WITNESS#to depict how he thinks and what he wants and what he contributes to the people around him#while acknowledging that his actions are supremely messed up#also without dumbing whatever the fuck is wrong with him down to just 'can't do math and needs a sippycup'#those jokes are funny but he's also a dealmaker#he doesn't need to be studied under a microscope! he needs to be gawked at in abject horror! Oh the Potential!#he needs to tell us more about how depraved hell can be by linking us to a portion of the culture full of the dead who cannot die!#anyways. rant over. uh I think I like valentino now? in the same way I like the old man villain from hunchback of notre dame.#just. (gestures) what is this dude. ew. oh my god#my post#personal stuff#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel valentino#is this anything#again I am entrenching on dangerous territory of 'expectations for this media I consume'#he really doesn't need to be written all shakespearean-like#too attached mayhaps#delete later#honestly worried that if the show does reveal his backstory or whatever it'll try to paint him in a sympathetic light#and then the online arguments will be a headache for a month#villain with tragic backstory ≠ sympathetic villain
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Study Buddies
isaac lahey x reader
summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.
tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader
word count: 4.5k
a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes
Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it.
“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention.
You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers.
“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you.
Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.”
You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher.
“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”
And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach.
When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment.
A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.
“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”
Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own.
“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can.
He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”
You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”
“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”
“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”
You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical.
“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”
Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own.
“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”
“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”
“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”
“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours.
“So?”
“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”
“What’s your grade?”
“A,” he sheepishly answers.
“See? You can tutor me.”
“What’s your grade?”
You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”
“Really?”
“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”
“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”
“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”
“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”
“Okay, so then your house or mine?”
“Where do you live?”
“Like ten minutes from here. You?”
“A bit closer than that. Parents?”
“Don’t really care what I do.”
“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits.
“Would he care if I were to come over?”
“Not if you’re helping me study.”
“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”
“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”
“Not for me.”
“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”
You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.”
“Oh.”
You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”
“I will. And thank you.”
“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class.
~~~~
The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly.
Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go.
“And? Who was it?”
“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute.
His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”
“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”
“And you know French well enough to help her?”
“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident.
“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”
“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”
“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time.
Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that.
As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation.
Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking.
“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly.
You stare for a moment, then, “what?”
“Vendredi.”
“Thursday?”
“Non.”
“Friday?”
“Oui, rencontrer?”
“Meet then?”
“Yeah, would you like to?”
“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”
“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better.
“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”
The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”
“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”
“Drive safe.”
“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs.
Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room.
~~~~
Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty.
His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile.
Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go.
Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are.
You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him.
“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”
“Yeah, just over there.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it.
He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-
“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door.
Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”
“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.
“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”
Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”
“What?”
“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”
You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”
“By one point.”
“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”
“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.
You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe.
“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”
“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe.
“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”
His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind.
“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”
“Which is?”
You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Mhm, really?”
“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.
“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”
“I’m always bad at eye contact.”
“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”
“Yes, but…”
“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”
Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”
Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”
“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees.
Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance.
“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature.
“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”
You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them.
“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”
“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest.
“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”
“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet.
“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”
“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”
“Is there now?”
“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough.
“Am I now?”
What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”
“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”
“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”
“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”
“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”
“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”
“Really?”
He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Can I confess something else?”
He pauses. “Sure, anything.”
“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”
“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”
“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”
“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”
“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”
“Like me, as in…”
“Like I have a crush on you.”
He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Why do you seem so surprised?”
“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.
Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”
“I don’t know!”
“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”
“I’d never know.”
“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”
“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”
“Very secretly.”
“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.
“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”
He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”
“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”
“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips.
“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”
“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink.
“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?”
“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”
“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”
“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.
“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”
“I think I’ll need a water break first.”
“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”
“Shush!”
#i feel like i'm cheating on kai#but i promise kai isn't going anywhere!!#nor are the mikaelsons - those for which i'm trying to write more#i have simply ✨ added ✨ another man to my collection#y'all i spelt his name wrong so many times writing this#have i ever mentioned i had a crush on a boy named isaac in my junior year of hs?#he was a twin#anyway#isaac lahey x reader#isaac lahey x y/n#teen wolf fanfiction
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lover’s lake
a/n: this is actually based off of a post but i cannot find it for the life of me 😭 also the ending SUCKS hard i’m so sorry
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 2.2k
warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, fingering, cursing, a bit of sub!steve if you squint hard enough
summary: car sex with steve at lover’s lake. that’s it <3
“Lover’s Lake?”
“What’s wrong with Lover’s Lake?” Steve asked, quirking his eyebrows at you.
“Nothing! I-“ but he cut you off before you could finish.
“Come on, babe, it’s romantic!” Steve chuckled, pulling the car into the clearing in front of the body of water.
“Steve,” you scoffed, “Lover’s Lake is not romantic,” you glared at him now, “bet you’ve brought all your girlfriends here!”
“What- No!” the boy was flushed, face hot and voice squeaking, “I haven’t, baby, promise.”
You rolled your eyes giggling at him and his rambling. You feigned annoyance, arms crossed and eyes staring out at the water before you.
Despite the reputation that came with it, Lover’s Lake was beautiful at night. The reflection of the moon and stars in the clear night sky skittered across the lake. The air cool and serene, the lake still and tranquil.
“I thought we could stargaze on the hood and cuddle,” Steve’s hand came to rub at the back of his neck, “I’ll turn around if you want.”
Your gaze softened at that, you turned to face him, eyes greeted with the slight pout he wore on his lips, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
“No,” voice soft and quiet, a whisper above the radio, “let’s stay. I wanna stay, Stevie.”
He swiveled in his seat to turn to you now, leaning across the centre console, “Yeah?” he asked.
You met him half way, a twinkle in your eye, a smirk on his lips, “Yeah.” you replied, closing the gap between you.
The tip of his nose brushed along the slope of your own, his lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. You sighed into the kiss, the sweet taste of the milkshake you shared at the diner lingered, the smell of his cologne, mint and cedar and Steve consuming you.
Your hand rested on his thigh, the rough of his denim beneath the pads of your fingers. Steve’s fingers came to trace featherlight down the side of your face, thumb brushing across your cheek so he could deepen the kiss.
And you let him. Tongue swiping over your bottom lip, swirling with your own. You pawed at his chest, desperate, needy, fisting his polo to bring him closer to you.
Steve chuckled, only breaking this kiss to speak, “Whaddya want, baby, hm?” fingers brushing your hair from your face, nose skirting along your jaw.
Steve was addicting. Like nothing you had ever known before. It was infatuating. You longed to have him on you in any way, his touch warm and lips electrifying. Your mind raced with Steve Steve Steve.
Would you call fucking in the backseat at Lover’s Lake a total cliche? Absolutely. But were you about to deny yourself the feeling of being wrapped around the boy across from you? Definitely not.
And so you answered, “You, Steve,” you breathed as he buried himself in the soft skin of your neck, a kiss, a nip, “want you.”
He hummed against your neck, lips pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, “Backseat?” he asked.
You nodded in response as he tore himself away from you, a tangle of limbs as he clambered into the back of the infamous BMW.
“C’mere,” Steve cooed, arms outstretched for you to join him.
And so you followed, landing in his lap. Thighs either side of his own and the feeling of his jeans under your lace covered core made you so glad you decided to wear a skirt tonight.
Steve arms circled your waist, caging you to him. A little squeeze, a little pull that encouraged you to roll your hips over his own, a gasp leaving your lips at the sensation. You cupped his cheeks now, fingers delving into his wild hair, pressing your lips back him.
The kiss was as needy as you felt, as messy and sloppy as the movements of your hips. Tongues melding together, spit mixing as you licked into each other. The boy beneath you groaned as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, a gentle pull.
Your hips never faltered, a whimper falling from your lips as the seam of Steve’s jeans brushed over your clit just right. The coil in your stomach tightening as his hands toyed with your tits over the thin cotton of your shirt, nipples stiff and waiting.
“Steve,” you whined, as he mouthed at your right bud over the material. Fingertips skirting underneath, his touch hot and burning into your skin. You stilled for a moment to remove the barrier between Steve’s lips and your skin, throwing it to the floor.
“Shit,” he moaned lowly, hands held around your ribs, thumbs smoothing under the skin below your breasts.
“You too,” you hushed, hands pulling at the hem of his shirt. Steve chuckled but did as you said, throwing his polo to the floor to join yours.
“Love this skirt on you baby, so fuckin’ pretty,” hunger evident in Steve’s voice, a low rasp that went straight to your pussy. His hands dipped underneath the pleats to find the flesh of your ass, rough palm delivering a delicate smack that sounded throughout the car.
You mewled above him, cheeks flushed and tinted pink as you braced your hands on his chest, fingernails digging through the taut muscle.
“Steve,” you whined again, desperate. Your body overwhelmed with desire, skin tingling and thighs clenching beside his own. You felt your arousal poole at your core, sticky slick coating the lace between your legs.
“Lean back for me sweetheart,” a soft kiss to your lips, “against the seat, good girl.”
Steve pushed the material of your skirt up your stomach, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear, letting the elastic snap back against your soft skin. You whimpered as his fingers traveled lower, rubbing soft circles against your clit over the pink lace.
Your back arched at the feeling, he was so close to where you wanted him, where you needed him. Steve hummed against your chest, teeth grazing and sucking at your supple skin, creating a mark that no one else would see.
“Please, baby,” you cried.
No retort, no warning as Steve pulled your underwear to the side, slipping his fingers between your folds. You both groaned at the feeling, your cunt sopping wet and waiting.
“You’re soaking, Christ,” his rough pads teased your hole, “so sweet, baby” he gushed as he began to pump in and out of you lazily.
Steve curled his fingers into you, brushing your walls and hitting your favourite spot with every stroke. Whines and pants tumbled past your lips with every pump of his fingers, thumb moving harshly against your clit, the wet sounds powering over the low hum of the radio.
“Fuck, Steve, I’m-“ you babbled, hips rutting, fucking yourself on Steve’s fingers.
“You gonna cum, huh, sweet girl?” his fingers never slowed, thumb on your bundle unrelenting as he sought to push you over the edge, “I got you.” he cooed.
You cried above him, chants of the boy’s name over and over falling past your lips as the pleasure hit you like a wave, crashing over you. It was music to Steve’s ears. He’d have you like this all hours of the day if you let him, eyes squeezed tight and those pretty sounds escaping you.
“That’s it, baby,” Steve hushed you, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his fingers still inside you, “good girl, good fucking girl.”
Eyes rolling to the back of your head, chest heaving, hips stuttering. Your forehead sticky with sweat as you clung onto Steve’s frame.
His fingers left you, a whine at the loss. They gripped your thigh, squeezing at the bare flesh there. The tip of his nose edging along your jaw, a gentle and soft gesture.
“You good?” voice a notch higher than a whisper, a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You nodded, a shaky exhale falling from your lips. You felt Steve smile against your skin, his fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, taunting, teasing.
His free hand came to grasp your chin between his thumb and finger, soft lips brushing against your own.
“You gonna sit on this cock, baby, hm?” a kiss, “Let me fill you up nice and deep?” tongue licking across your bottom lip, “Please, angel, need to feel you.”
Your thighs clenched at Steve’s words, his begging making your pussy throb, “Yes, Steve, fuck.” you whined, fingers scrambling to unbutton his jeans.
He groaned at your urgency, his fingers prodding your shaky ones out of the way as he shoved his jeans and boxers down past his ass and knees so they would sit around his calves. Cock springing free, Steve hissed as your fingers ghosted along his length.
“Fuck,” he moaned, “c’mere,” his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your chest flush against him. Steve kissed you now, it was soft and sweet, lips gently melding together. His hand came to wrap around himself as he teased the pretty pink tip through your folds.
Steve lined himself up with your entrance, a squeeze to your waist encouraging you to sink down on him. You did, eyes squeezed shut at the stretch. Steve gripped your hips like his life depended on it, groaning, “Oh, fuck.”
You began to move your hips slowly, a lazy drag over his cock over and over. His head lay back against the seat, hair a little wild, eyes heavy and gaze hungry. He looked like pure sex, you thought, so fucking dreamy.
Rocking your hips a little faster now, your moans stifled by your teeth digging into your bottom lip. You bounced your ass the way you knew he liked, the way you knew would drive him crazy. The boy whined beneath you, his hands smoothing over the curve of your ass.
“Pussy feels so fucking good baby,” he moaned breathlessly, “take me so well.”
Your heart fluttered at the praise, the wet slap of your cunt around Steve’s cock growing in pace. The windows of the car steamed up now, the BMW rocking with every snap of your hips.
You keened above him, fingers tugging at his hair relentlessly, lips searching for his in a messy kiss in the bright of the moonlight. His tongue slipped past yours, swallowing each other’s gasps and moans every time his thick cock stroked at your favourite spot.
Steve’s fingers wrapped at the base of your throat before dancing across the soft skin of your tits, a pinch of your bud, a whine from your lips. They found your swollen clit between your legs, throbbing and sensitive. His fingers rubbed in circles at the nerves, drawing a soft whimper from you at the overwhelming sensation.
His gaze was trained on the glow on your face, skin a little shiny, cheeks a little pink, lips kiss-bitten and red. “Need you to cum for me, sweetheart,” a kiss to the shell of your ear, “shit, can you give me one more?” his voice low and raspy in your ear.
“Yes, baby, yes,” you cried, hips bouncing harder, fingers pulling at the boy’s hair now, “make me cum, Stevie. Feels so good.”
“Fuck,” Steve groaned, his body in a frenzy, his fingers unrelenting on your clit now, “so fuckin’ gorgeous, so pretty.” he mumbled to himself almost incoherently.
You felt the familiar feeling of your coil twisting and snapping, the wave of pleasure crashing over you as your pussy clenched around him and your thighs shook. Strings of curses fell from your lips, your vision starry as your features twisted with pleasure.
Steve was hanging on by a thread, his fingers pressing a bruising grip into your waist, your moans and whimpers going straight to his dick. Your hips slowed as you collapsed into him, your tits pressing against the ringlets of his chest hair.
He bottomed out below you, hips now fucking up into you with vigour. The sound of his thighs slapping up against your ass filled the car and Steve was a picture. Head lulled back as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, lips parted in such a pretty way, his muscles tense as he fucked you.
“Baby, please,” be began, “please can I cum? Oh, please can I cum,” Steve whined below you, “need to fill this pretty pussy so bad, baby, please?” he begged.
You pressed soft kisses to the skin of his throat, one planted to every mole and freckle, before settling on his lips again. You spoke into the kiss, “Want it, Steve,” you breathed, “go ahead, cum.”
The boy groaned beneath you, his thrusts erratic and deep, thighs and the muscles of his abdomen tensing as he reached his high. His cock drained of everything he had to give you, little whines of please and thank you tumbled past his lips. Chest heaving and forehead slick with sweat.
You both stayed still for a while, your head resting on his shoulder, nose nudging at the skin of his neck. His hand rubbed up and down your bare back soothingly, the other petted at your hair.
Neither of you bothered to move, Steve’s softening cock still buried inside you, the mixture of your juices running down his shaft. You both basked in your post orgasm bliss.
You shifted in his lap, delicate fingers messing with the strands of his hair that found themselves at the nape of his neck. You gazed up at your boyfriend, eyes bright and hopeful.
“Can we look at the stars now?”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#stranger things fic#stranger things smut#k.fic#i can’t stop writing about fucking this man im sorry#honestly im trying to write non smutty stuff but i just CANT DHSJSK
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plot bunny of the day…
Jegulus breaks up after Reg gets the mark, but ends up having sex one time that James is at Hogwarts for Order stuff at the end of Regulus’ last year at Hogwarts, which leaves Reg pregnant (yes, Reg is trans in this). Regulus then proceeds to tell absolutely no one about this kid, not sure even Barty or Pandora and just tells everyone he has to go to Paris for some potion training for a year (which he actually does) and disappears from public life for a year.
When he comes back, he buys an apartment for himself and his son (let’s call him Leo, I’ll come up with something better later) where no one is ever allowed except for Kreacher and Leo’s tutors. Now, this kid isn’t secluded from public life, he has a very normal life actually, just he’s never seen in public with Regulus. Why? Well, initially it was just because he didn’t want his family to know about how the kid came to be, but he also wasn’t willing to abandon the last gift James ever gave to him, as he’ll later refer to his son.
Then, however, the fact that our Regulus is still planning Voldemort’s downfall with Pandora also came into the picture, so he’s afraid that if they get discovered little Leo might be in danger. After that the story goes pretty much as we know it, except Reg doesn’t die in the cave since he tells Pandora that he’s going because this time he’s not taking chances, he has to go back to Leo. He also doesn’t leave a note for obvious reasons.
However, he knows that he’s still very much in danger of one day never coming home to Leo, so as soon as Leo turns 5-years-old he gives him a letter and a jar of chocolates that he’ll refill periodically, then he tells him to eat one and only one (he charms the jar) every day and that if the chocolates ever run out he has to take the letter and find James Potter.
A few days after Leo Black’s 8th birthday, the chocolates run out, and an 8-year-old shows up on James’ doorstep with a letter from a long lost lover that goes:
James, my dear angel,
if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead or worse. I will never be able to thank you for everything you have given me, and I’m so incredibly sorry to have to place this on you, but I have one last miracle to ask you…
#I AM EATING MY HANDS#I WANT TO WRITE THIS RIGHT NOW#NO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH#oh also James is not with Lily in this one#Reg also tells James to not tell anyone that Leo is Reg’s child#just to be safe#and the lies this man comes up with shahiaksnjwk#pls it would be so funny#also very angsty#but overall cute#also pretty sure I’m gonna make it like regulus isn’t dead#because I physically cannot write him dying#my keyboard actually catches fire when I try to#jegulus#jegulus fic#jegulus as dads#jegulus fanfiction#jegulus dads#marauders#james potter#regulus black#james x regulus#fic: what’s left of us
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wip wednesday...it's me...ya boy....refusing to let people forget nick suzuki is not white lol
;;
Cole’s played with Nick for so long that he feels unbalanced when he’s on the face off against him for the first time. His dark intent eyes and the determined line of his mouth; Cole’s seen that look from right beside him for almost a decade. He never thought he’d be on the receiving end.
Nick’s skin is a warm brown against the white of the Canadian’ away jerseys, something Cole has seen hundreds of times in Montreal, ten years in, and has never been particularly taken by, but he looks warmer, here, even though they’re in Switzerland in February and it had been a long, long Montreal winter before they’d even gotten on the plane.
He didn’t get a haircut before the NHL took a break for the Olympics and Cole is suddenly desperate to know what his hair looks like now, if it’s messier under the helmet, if it tangles and curls, or if it just stands straight up. Nick’s usually pretty strict about getting a haircut, but there was a long road trip before they broke for the Olympics and the last time Cole saw Nick, his hair was growing out in ways Cole had never seen.
He looks, hmm. Dreamy is a word for it, maybe. Maybe that one Montreal gossip blog who named him Quebec’s most eligible bachelor in January had the right idea. Cole had made fun of him for weeks when he got the promoted post on Instagram but he sees the potential now, the shape of it.
Cole grins at him. Nick’s mouth doesn’t move.
“Switzerland’s beautiful in the winter,” he says. The ref is still shouting at Kirby and Trevor at the other side of the circle about how they won’t quit knocking each other around.
Nick looks at him but doesn’t say anything.
“You look better in red and blue though,” says Cole. “The white jersey, I dunno. You do better with a little color. Gonna be glad to see you out of it.”
Nick blinks.
“Maybe tonight,” says Cole.
Nick says, “fucking—Cole, are you this much of a maniac with everybody?”
They bend down. The ref puts his whistle in his mouth.
“No,” says Cole. Nick makes a face. Cole laughs. “You’re the only Canadian I’d ever cross those borders for.”
“Either pull the fuck up or fuck off, Caufield,” says Nick, but the corners of his eyes are crinkled, before he turns determined and intense again.
The ref tells them to shut up in French and drops the puck. Nick swipes it.
#it is my duty as a mixed race asian to force white fans to confront the fact that jrob nick suzuki et al are not white#always trying to balance between exoticism versus brown skin is very beautiful from a white hockey player's perspective but frankly#most of them have some deep soul-searching to do anyway#oh i just had a thought that would blow open the discourse but would also get me specifically in so much trouble#anyway tk i liked your prompt very much and i hope that someday soon i stop posting and write again#it's been a fun exercise trying to write from cole's perspective which i have never tried before#he is developing-intent flirty with one (1) man and friendly flirty with many (many) olympians#and that has been a fun balancing act#unfortunate birdcage fanfictions
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Lucien Vanserra has lost everything: his lover, his home, his friend. Now, on a Solstice night far too cold for the fire in his blood, he watches his mate slip away from him, too—right into the arms of another male.
He makes a promise then, to the stars who have never listened—he will no longer dream. From now on, Lucien is going to burn—and he’ll make sure the rest of the world burns with him.
Note: For @elucienweekofficial Day 6: Travel! This was going to be a long-shot but the plot ended up plotting too much and now it's a multi-chapter. I hope you enjoy this prologue!
Warnings: Sadness factory, Beron Vanserra (content warnings in later chapters!)
Read on AO3
Prologue
The Autumn woods hum a gentle song.
Elain wakes up to its melody, carried by the morning breeze. She’d never been here before—in Velaris, the season is dim and grey, even the Sidra losing some of its usual sparkle. She isn’t used to the splurge of colour, a spectrum of yellows and oranges and reds so vibrant that she can’t help but be grateful for her Fae eyesight, able to grasp it all.
The path she’d woken up on is veiled in what seems like a thousand autumn leaves, some of them bronze and trampled by hunting boots, some of them accompanied by large, heavy paws. The others, though, lay out a clear trail as they reflect the sunlight’s golden gleam.
Elain follows it without question. Without a shadow of a doubt.
She listens in to the soft crunch of the leaves beneath her own boots, strangely large and black, an unlikely fashion choice for someone such as herself. She dismisses the thought quickly, though, as a chirping bird flits past her—a new harmony in the Autumn song.
The quiet flow of a stream joins it eventually as she approaches it, each step quicker than the last. Her throat feels dry all of a sudden—as if the mere sight of the fresh, sparkling water had spurred the fire in her throat. She swallows the sensation patiently—after all, the sweet, relieving taste is within her reach.
Elain kneels by the stream and dips her hands into the water, frowning at the lack of the cool sensation she’d expected.
She tries again—and again.
The water never appears in her cupped palms, evading her completely.
Elain frowns and steps in closer, her reflection meeting her atop the flowing surface.
A gasp rips free from her throat—yet another sound joining the humming melody, sharp and unexpected compared to all the others. It does not belong here—she does not belong here, there is no question left in her mind about that.
She doesn’t belong here because the face staring back at here is not that of Elain Archeron’s.
She blinks, a golden, mechanical eye whirring with the movement. Elain gasps again, strong, powerful hands reaching to touch her face—Lucien’s face, handsome but brutally scarred as it ripples through his golden-brown skin. His full lips part in shock, his russet eye glints, and his auburn brows shoot up—the face staring back at her is, undeniably, her estranged mate’s.
Elain’s—Lucien’s hands begin to shake.
What is going on? those lips move, yet the question remains unspoken firmly in her mind.
Elain rises to her feet, though her limbs act without her accordance—they possess a mind of their own, moving wherever that song carries them. Elain realises then she is merely a bystander—she is not here to change, to enact, but to watch,
She is a Seer, and this is a vision.
Lucien’s reflection in the river ripples again, and his face begins to shift—the scars seem to sink beneath his skin, not even a faint, thin line creasing his cheek anymore. His face is smooth, as it used to be—long before she’d ever met him.
When she blinks again, the eyes change, too—they are a matching pair of russet, now, and though Elain knows these are the eyes Lucien was born with, she can’t help but feel uneasy at the sight. In their brief meetings, few of them as there had been, she had grown somewhat used to that golden eye, watching her closely even from across the room. She liked the way it caught the sunlight.
She has to make peace with Lucien’s immaculate face now, though. He looks back at his reflection one last time as he finally straightens—and Elain catches his arched ears perk up slightly, as though they’d just registered some sound before it truly even began.
He doesn’t turn, though—but Elain feels a smirk tug at the corner of his lips as the feeling of yet another presence registers for her, too. It lands somewhere behind them with a quiet thud—as though it had just fallen from high up in the trees.
Lucien finally turns, and the intruder comes into view.
The beautiful female has ivy growing from her tan skin, its stem curling around her limbs in certain places—her wrists, her ankles, parts of her exposed collarbone. The leaves of rich, blooming green offset her eyes nicely—two pools of tarnished gold, and for some reason, Elain imagines it shifts into bronze under certain angles. Her chestnut hair is a sea of untamed curls, falling down her back in loose rings, some of them tangling between the ivy stems. The veins beneath her wrists appear to be crafted from ivy, too—as if it grew directly beneath her skin.
Her curves are wrapped in a brown dress that hugs her in just the right places—she truly looks like a goddess of the woods, having descended from the high trees to bless the world with her beauty.
And yet, when she finally speaks, her words stir confusion in Elain’s mind.
“Hey, beautiful,” she says with a wink.
If she only could, Elain would blink—but instead, she hears herself groan, a deep, male sound that seems to rumble straight from her broad chest. “Please, Jesminda—I have a reputation.”
The female steps in closer.
“Ah, yes.” She smirks. “Lucien Vanserra, the cruel Autumn Prince, feared by all.”
For the first time since Elain met him, Lucien seems bashful. “Well—”
The female—Jesminda—huffs. “No well. You know you’re the only one in your family with some semblance of a heart.” She angles her head. “You and your mother, maybe.”
A wave of sadness surges through her, one that is not her own though she feels it in her chest anyway. “I really wish you could meet her,” Lucien says.
Jesminda shrugs, though it is not carelessness that lifts her shoulders—she makes it seem like Lucien’s hopes and dreams are inevitable, like his mother is standing right behind him, waving at her with a wide smile on her face. “Maybe I will, one day.” She grimaces as she adds, “When your awful father dies and you duel your brother for the throne.”
The Autumn song seems to stop at that—even the river coming to a halt.
Lucien stirs. “You shouldn’t say such things, Jesminda. Here, even the forest listens.”
But goddesses do not fear the forest, and so Jesminda winks. “Then it’s a good thing I have my cruel Autumn prince to protect me.”
—
Elain wakes up with a jolt.
She looks over her limbs first—long and lithe, that hardened muscle nowhere in sight. Her shoulders fall slightly as her gaze moves on to land on her nightgown—definitely her own, a lavender lace she’d picked out recently while Solstice shopping on the streets of Velaris.
She looks out of her bedroom window—for a Seer, she’s not particularly good at navigating the darkness, but she can make out the plush winter snow as it gently floats down from the midnight sky, draping itself eventually over the cobblestone.
It is definitely her own bed she’s sitting on, too, the sheets a pale shade of yellow she had also picked out a few days earlier. Her racing heart begins to slow its pace when she finally makes sure she had found her way back into reality. She is a Seer, but she is also Elain Archeron.
She is a mistake.
Anger surges through her at the memory—anger, confusion and hurt—but she squashes it down immediately, too fresh to revisit just yet. Instead, she focuses on what the Sight has just shown her—on the vivid colours of Autumn, the familiar face and body she’d stepped into, and the unfamiliar presence crafted from the woods and ivy. Her visions have never felt like this—they have always been draped by a fog, the sounds and colours muffled through a wall of mist. And yet this time, she could feel the autumn breeze caressing her skin—could hear the song of the forest as though it was played by her own heart. This was not a vision—and decidedly not a glimpse into the future, considering Lucien’s scarless face and him being present in Autumn at all.
No, Elain decides. This was no future.
She had been pulled into the past.
She can’t quite wrap her head around it as what had to have been Lucien’s memory replays itself over and over in her mind, a strange feeling of dread building in her chest. Elain allows it to consume her, too curious for her own good to back out now—there is nothing else waiting for her there, anyway—only that anger, confusion and pain.
A quiet knock on the door eventually stirs her from her thoughts—she isn’t entirely sure how long she has allowed her mind to race—but she guesses minutes as her sister appears in the doorway, her own robe falling loosely over her shoulders as she wipes the sleep from her blue-grey eyes with a hand.
“Everything okay?” Feyre asks her.
Elain frowns. “I’m…not sure. Why do you ask?”
Feyre hesitates, and the pause only makes that dread in her chest intensify like a whirring mill. “Lucien just left,” her sister finally says.
A quiet oh is Elain’s only acknowledgement. When the golden thread tied to her rib tugs in protest, she adds, “Was it not expected?”
Feyre’s expression looks strange. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Oh.”
Those piercing eyes are unreadable as Feyre asks, “You…wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
“No,” Elain’s response comes immediately and invites no further questions.
Feyre’s throat bobs slightly—as though fighting to keep back the words she so obviously wants to utter. Mercifully, she only says, “Okay. Sorry to wake you,” and begins to back away.
Before she can well and truly understand what she is doing, Elain stops her with a, “Wait.”
Feyre halts, her tattooed hand tight around the doorknob. “Yes?”
Elain looses a shaky breath. For some reason, she is certain the question will only be the beginning of her problems. “Who is Jesminda?”
Elucien Week Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @melting-houses-of-gold @areyoudreaminof @fieldofdaisiies @kingofsummer93 @witchlingsandwyverns @gracie-rosee @stickyelectrons @selesera @sv0430 @vulpes-fennec @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @screaming-opossum @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @spell-cleavers @starfall-spirit @lectoradefics @this-is-rochelle @goldenmagnolias @labellefleur-sauvage @bookeater34 @capbuckyfalcon @betterthaneveryword @tasha2627 @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune
#evil!lucien is here!#i really did try to make this a one shot#but when a fictional man wants to be pathetic and covered in blood for 10 chapters then who am i to deny him?#elucienweek2023#elucien#pro elucien#elain x lucien#elain archeron#elain acotar#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#elucien fic#elucien fanfic#elucien fanfiction#acotar fanfic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my writing
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Hey guys we gotta get DJ's teddy bear back from the daycare, I think he misses them...
#fnaf djmm#dj music man#idk if this is funny enough to count as a shitpost#it's 5am here and i'm trying to write fanfiction and i suddenly remembered the giant freddy teddy from the daycare#no i'm not writing anything about the dca or the daycare so idk why it showed up in my brain
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i'm so curious: what's your favorite thing you've written? something that makes you nod and go, "yeah, that's it right there. i did that." just the best combination of words you've ever churned out in your personal opinion. it makes you proud just Thinking about it. could be a sentence, a paragraph, etc.
very cute ask anon, thank you. im going to assume for your benefit that you mean specifically my icemav writing—obviously I write outside of top gun and am very proud of that stuff but it wouldn’t make sense out of context.
There’s a lot of more recent stuff that I’m extremely extremely proud of on a technical level, but I’m prouder of this paragraph below on a deeper more existential level.
This paragraph was one of the first parts of WWGATTAI i ever wrote—august 12, i think, well before I had fully realized the characters’ voices or their attitudes towards life/each other; I only had about 5k written of what is now a 300k+ project (at the time of writing this paragraph i wanted it to be 10k max) and had no real outline, didn’t know who or what I was dealing with, hadnt seen TGM in two months, had done no research (so it’s not at all politically/militarily accurate or anything, why the FUCK is ice going to fucking GUAM)—and STILL this wound up being my favorite paragraph in the entire fucking series. not to suck my own dick or anything. I’m STILL so proud of this paragraph, 9 months and 275k+ words later, even though i Absolutely Would Not write it this way now.
#narrative distance both incredibly close and incredibly far#he’s trying to rationalize this whole situation and by extent the whole plot of his life#we’re inside his head as he tries to convince both Pete and himself of this huge huge lie#which is that leaving (right after he fucked their relationship and their best friend just died) is worth it for the navy’s sake#and it will make him a good man#in the masculine strong man leadership sense#and Pete (first name instead of last name; über vulnerable in the worst way because he’s crying yet doesn’t want to be seen crying)#counters all of this lie with—does it? does it really mean you’re a good man? it means you’re the weakest most subservient man i know#bending over backwards for the navy instead of your FAMILY#yeah i would absolutely not write this paragraph this way NOW but i am still so proud of what it represents in the story#& the very experimental 2nd person without quotation marks is i think done very well#at least for august 2022 me#some wording/phrasing/detail issues but other than that—a great paragraph!#again not to suck my own dick but you asked!#pete maverick mitchell#tom iceman kazansky#icemav#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#edts notes#asks#this is a terrible chapter in aggregate but it has some of the best diamond-in-the-rough moments in the whole series#ughhh the Pete this has nothing to do with Afghanistan; pete this has nothing to do with iraq etc line…. SOO good omg i love it sorry
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Work Friends
A series of semi-related stories about Yuri Briar and his coworker Chloe. (Read on A03)
Haircut- “Who did your hair? An axe murderer?”
Matchmaker Niece- Anya meets Yuri and Chloe after work.
Tangled in the Closet- They really should put a lightbulb in the storage closet.
Sick- Yuri checks in on Chloe when she didn't show up for work.
Date- Chloe realizes that Yuri is definitely not over his sister complex yet.
Apology- In which Yuri mopes and gets dubious advice from his friend. (New Chapter!)
#spy x family#fanfiction#yuri briar#spy x family chloe#Rarepair peeps come get Ya'll's juice!#in which I try to write Yuri as a competent man
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how come on ao3 there's no tag for superboy, the adventures of superman when he was a boy? conner kent is not real!
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'Oscar once told him that he could never successfully hide that which he refused to acknowledge, and Aziraphale had certainly spent enough of his reckless past not daring to speak the name of the fragile human emotion clawing away at his chest. But after 1941 he had become rapidly, dangerously aware— so then he spent the next eighty years building up walls and mazes that not even he could find his way out of anymore.'
Aziraphale and Crowley are so close to carving out that fragile, peaceful existence that they both so desperately crave, until 6000 years of repressed feelings come head-to-head with an eternity of faith and Crowley just doesn't think he can handle another rejection while Aziraphale just wishes that the love that dare not speak its name could be enough... but if it isn't, it isn't. It's not like not being enough is new to him anyway.
If only their mutual plans of tragically wallowing on opposite sides of the United Kingdom weren't interrupted by some very strange news from Tadfield, some uncomfortable truths from the 1890s and the looming threat of a brand new Apocalypse led by an all-too-familiar face.
#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#aziracrow#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable husbands#ineffable idiots#ineffable fanfic#good omens fic#the husbands break up post-apocalypse#but they were never together#but they kinda almost were#then they have to work together again#and realise things via 1890s flashbacks#oscar wilde is there too man idk#oscar helps aziraphale realise things#also there may be a new antichrist#and a new apocalypse#i lost my mind for weeks reading every letter oscar wilde has ever written to try and emulate his writing style for the flashbacks#this fic is writing me#I have lost my mind#i'm sorry
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Recently watched Brokeback Mountain 🏔️ and I just had a wackass dream where Alma sees her husband kissing Jack and is just super into it
She then spends the rest of the movie trying to have a threesome without scaring her husband off/letting him know she knows and that accidentally turns into a poly relationship???
I’ve been searching desperately for an hour to see if anyone else sees my vision but the answer appears to be no😭
ITS TIME FOR ME TO BE THE CHANGE I WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD
#(Ya know when you just close your eyes and then all of the sudden you’ve got a third parent and 2nd husband in the house)#I just think it has promise and I like throuples#ig im gonna start writing fanfiction#the idea of Alma trying drop hints to Ennis that she also thinks Jack is hot and would like to go fishing with them👀#I know this is not a very enlightened post#look I just want the characters I liked to be happy and this is what my subconscious came up with#brokeback mountain#ennis del mar#jack twist#Alma Del Mar#Alma beers Del Mar#jack and ennis#Jack twist x ennis Del Mar#Jack twist x ennis Del Mar x alma beers Del Mar#please someone else write this I hate writing#I just wanna read#IM TALKING TO THE MAN IN THE MIRROR#IM ASKING HIM TO CHANGE HIS WAYS#I’m talking to myself lol
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Thoughts on non con fics or just people who are into non con in general?
#sunshine#asks#18+ only#idk man I have a degree in gender and sexuality studies my thoughts on the matter are more nuanced than I can easily explain on tumblr#but like take a look at the things I write and take a wild guess on my broad stance 😂#as long as the real actual living human beings involved are all consenting adults I really don't give a shit#or think it's appropriate for anyone else to try regulating#I'm more interested in mitigating actual real life harm to actual real life people than handwringing over fanfiction#(not to mention I could go on a whole tangent about how shitty the way people talk about actual rape that happens to real people is)#(but that's not what you're asking about so I'm not gonna go there)
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