#and even then he’ll put his feet up on the coffee table | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 16 days

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maybe could I ask for miguel seeing spider girl with a bruise on her face and getting protective (when in reality it was just over something dumb) thank youuuu <3

ty for requesting! Finding his Spider-Girl is never easy. He’ll assume you’re wearing your watch and find it forgotten in his room, or under a chair in the cafeteria, or twitching and loosing smoke at the bottom of a garbage can, nowhere near your actual location.

Today, he checks all your usual haunts and decides he might break up with you if you don’t start leaving him clues as to where to find you. Not that’s he’s your boyfriend (of course he’s your boyfriend), but he’d put an end to your… relationship, should he have to.

He’s getting annoyed at his own thoughts and, by extension, you, when he finally finds you lying casually across a couch in a common area otherwise abandoned. You’ve projected your phone game onto the ceiling, music leaking from the cans of your headphones, with your socked feet dangling over an armrest, a drinks bottle by your head.

“Where are your shoes?” he asks loudly.

You glance his way. “Hi, Miguel.”

“Are you walking around without shoes?” He bends one way and another looking for them. They’re on their sides under the coffee table among a legion of dust bunnies.

“What?”

“I said–” He hates playing this game. “Take the headphones off, and then we’ll talk to each other.”

“I’m gonna take my headphones off,” you say.

He rolls his eyes. You stop projecting your phone, snapping it closed on your chest and struggling up into a sitting position, legs retrieved from over the armrest and crossed beneath you as your headphones slip around your neck. You’re in sportswear with a jacket too big for you over your shoulders, cute cargo pants he adores and potentially would love to take off of you, and he’s so busy noticing your uncharacteristic outfit that he misses the huge bruise on your face, the yellow, red and purple like a stain under your eye

He has amazing vision. “What happened?” he asks, practically diving for you, bending down to take your unbruised cheek into his hand. “Who did that to you?”

You haven’t been on a strike mission in weeks, and your combat training is all but done.

Someone laid their hands on you.

Miguel goes into a fugue. “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice flat, almost cold, “who hit you?”

“Miguel, I’m a superhero–”

“I don’t remember the last time you went home,” he says, immediately brushing this possibility away. You don’t fight crime in your dimension, Spider-Girl a poorly received vigilante. “You haven’t been in training, I didn’t send you on the strike this morning because you didn’t want to go.” He touched you with extreme care, thumb barely pressed to your skin, but he talks with precision. “So I’ll ask again. Who hit you, cariño?”

“Miguel,” you laugh, pushing his hand off of your face to wrap your arms around his neck. He covers your back instinctively. “I’m fine, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting all macho.”

“You aren’t answering my question.”

“Oh my gosh.” You cling to him. He could stand up at full height and be sure you’d come up with him. He’d quite enjoy that, to his secret pleasure, you with your legs wrapped around his hips. You don’t like being carried is the kicker. “Miguel, I hit myself. My hand got caught when I was taking the suit off and I hit myself in the eye, it’s fine.”

Your back is soft. His hand less so as he rubs your back in surprised, short lines, up and down and up again. “Idiot,” he says, his voice turning to rasp at such a low volume.

It must hurt, even if you did it to yourself. Miguel peels you away from his neck and stations you gently on the couch. “I’ll take you to the medbay,” he promises, giving your shoulder a little push. “What’s wrong with you? You hit yourself? You’re like a kid.”

“I am not! It happens to everybody.”

“Never happens to me.”

“You cheat. Your suit flashes on and off.”

“It does not.” Miguel decides he is going to carry you whether you like it or not. You aren’t wearing shoes —he doesn’t need you getting any more injured. “Alright, hold on to your phone, my brat.”

“Your what?” you laugh, though any humour you hold is lost when Miguel grabs you up with ease and cradles your full grown body to his chest in a princess carry, “Miguel! Stop, put me down! You know I hate this.”

“You might hurt yourself again. I’m taking necessary precautions.”

You sigh and drop your face into his shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll allow it. You got so, so mad thinking somebody hit me, I think you deserve to carry me around like a large cantaloupe.” You draw a heart into the base of his neck. “Will you grab my shoes?”

“I’ll circle back.”

“Thank you. How’d you even find me? I was hoping I’d be healed the next time we saw one another.”

“At bedtime, you mean?”

He resists the urge to kiss your cheek, or tell you how he’d found you (mindless combing of the building, seduction of your most likely location, and dumb luck). You don’t need the ammunition.

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dilfl0v3rss · 9 months

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ony is the best baby daddy like he just has that energyyy 😫

rightttttt like he gets the kids on time and if he’s late he will always let you know. he knows how to do his daughters hair and always makes sure his son has a haircut. his kids are always dressed nice and he always makes sure they’re taking care of each other as well as taking care of their beautiful mother.

he still finds himself looking out for you too, always telling the kids to “order sum for mommy” when he takes them out to eat or to “always make sure mommy’s not working too hard”. even on days he isn’t supposed to have them he’d gladly take them if you were feeling overwhelmed. if you’re feeling sick he’ll literally sleep at your house, soup and medicine sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch as he slept just incase you were to wake up in the middle of the night.

he’d constantly “forget” money at your house after he leaves too, telling you to “just get yourself sum nice”. if you give the money back anyways he’d give it to his oldest child, telling them to put it in your wallet for him.

when it’s his weekend with the kids he’d call you every couple of hours to let you know he has everything under control since he knows how worried you could get when you haven’t heard from him i awhile.

he always speaks highly of you to the kids, telling his daughters stories of when the two of you were young and in love and telling his sons stories of how strong you were for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself. your kids would honestly be what got the two of you back together. they’d constantly tell you the stories their father would tell them, reminding you of how happy the two of you used to be and making you realize that you didn’t even know why the two of you called it quits in the first place.

as soon as you called ony he’d answer on the first ring, throwing millions of questions at you since you never really called unless he had the kids. you’d shut him up by asking if he could come over to talk for a little in which he replied almost instantly with a yes. he’d be over there in less than fifteen minutes letting you lead him to your bedroom to talk just incase your kids came downstairs for some water or a late night snack.

of course the two of you didn’t get to talk for more than ten minutes, his dick shoved deep into you as he held his hand over your mouth. “shhh mama you gotta be quiet. ion want you t’wake the kids” he’d whisper, fucking into you deeper as he watched your teary eyes roll to the back of your skull. you’d mumble back a muffled “mhm” as you felt the pad of his thumb begin to circle your clit. you’d whine and moan for him loader and loader, turning him on to the point where his grunts and groans began to come out at a higher volume as well. soon enough the both of you were deep in bliss, fucking on each other just like you used to. you’d tell him how much you missed him and how you’ve never stopped loving him and he’d gladly say it back, deepening his stroke as he left passionate kisses on your lips.

as the two of you finished ony would lay you back down, letting sleep claim you as he moved towards the door to check on his little angels. as soon as he turned the doorknob loud shuffles could he heard from the hallway, the sound of a bunch of feet running towards one of the bedrooms and little whispers of “sh sh shh” and “be quiet” coming from it as he made his way down the hall to check on his “sleeping” children. he couldn’t help but smile when he seen them cuddled up together on a large blanket of the floor, some of the smaller ones in bed with the oldest. they had different rooms, but chose to sleep together often since they were all so close.

ony couldn’t help but notice the small smiles on each of their faces, nothing but excitement and joy rushing through them as they thought about how happy much happier their parents will be now that they’re together again.

i didn’t even mean to write this i just let my brain leak all over the place…

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #aot onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon smut

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harryforvogue · 2 months

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or the one where annaliese is sick and harry has never hated himself more <3

read wtss in full here

read more wtss content here

***

Every morning, without fail, Harry gets up to make his wife breakfast and lunch before she leaves for work.

Lunch is the easy part – usually leftovers from the night before with a fresh salad and dressing, drink, and snack. She really enjoys having something sweet after a large meal, and she often falls victim to taking a nap after lunch, so to keep her awake, he packs a bar of dark chocolate into her lunch bag.

Breakfast is trickier because sometimes she doesn’t wake with an appetite. Still, he’ll put out something small on the table. A single slice of toast with butter and coffee, or even just yogurt with his homemade granola. Something that will keep her fed until lunch. It was a part of his vow of course. Keeping her fed and happy. He can’t do the latter but he can certainly put all his effort into the first.

Once her bag is zipped up, and her yogurt is left on the dining table, he grabs an apple for himself and then returns to his room. She’ll be getting up in ten minutes. She gets ready quickly too thanks to her hair, outfit, and skin preparations from the night before, so he never has to worry about her coffee getting cold. It’s an unspoken routine.

Harry sits on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, waiting for her door to open so that he can go back to sleep.

Ten minutes pass. The door doesn’t open. He doesn’t hear the soft pad of her sleepy steps making their way to the bathroom down the hall. He gives her an additional five minutes. Perhaps she wants to sleep in. But then five minutes become ten and then fifteen, and then Harry worries she’ll be late for work.

He’s torn between waking her and leaving her alone when he hears a wet cough from the other side of the wall. His heart drops.

Harry quietly opens his door and walks to her room. Her door is closed, but when he presses his ear against it, he can hear her coughs, followed by a whimper of distress. Alarm bells ring through his head, his hand shooting out to grab the door handle without thinking. He stops himself just as he begins turning it open, his other hand balled into a fist in frustration at himself.

At least Annaliese knows she’s too ill to go to work. Harry moves away from the door slowly and goes back to the kitchen, putting all the food he’s prepared for her in the fridge. He rolls up his sleeves, taking out several vegetables, stock, and a cutting board. He gets to work without thinking.

The sounds of Annaliese coughing travels through the house, hitting him square in the chest.

Had he missed something important? A pale flush of her cheeks that he mistook for the effects of the cold draft that swept her into the house? Several sneezes that he brushed off as allergies? A red nose that he blamed on the wintery February? Fatigue that he assumed was from the long day on her feet?

He feels terrible.

He should have known.

Harry cooks the stock on high flames, adding a tiny tinge of spice as she enjoys it. While that continues, he kneads dough and sets it aside for dinner later. He’ll make her a fresh, herbed loaf. Run the store to get that sweet cream butter she likes so much.

Once the food is done, he puts all the dishes on the tray, and carefully makes his way back to the rooms. He knocks on Annaliese’s door once before allowing himself in.

He rarely comes into this room anymore, so the memories of the shared space hit him hard. He keeps a neutral face, but his eyes dart around, seeing the things exactly that way he left them. Lamps in the same spots, the same curtains, the same number of pillows on the bed. His side of the bed, in fact, is messy, as if Annaliese often travels to that side during her sleep. The image of her reaching for him in the middle of the night makes him falter in his step, an odd pain near his ribs.

To his surprise, his wife is sitting up in bed, her wild curls in her face, one shoulder bare from the neckline sliding down too far as if she unbuttoned the top of her pajama set due to discomfort. She raises her head to look at him, but it’s so hard to as if her head is heavy.

“Could you call the school?” she whispers, a quiver to her voice.

Harry nods and goes to put the food on the side table. At the sight of what’s on the table, though, his breath hitches.

A framed photograph rests in the center of the wood, an outtake that wasn’t put in with the rest of the photo album. It’s from their wedding: Harry feeding Annaliese a bit of cake, the two of them unwinding during their reception with Harry’s tie already undone and Annaliese’s veil abandoned somewhere in the hall. He recalls the moment violently, remembering how she looked at him from under her lashes, a wild glimpse of excitement at the promise of their new life together. It’s the first time he called her his wife. He kissed her messy mouth afterwards.

Harry puts the tray down with trembling fingers.

She looks at the food curiously but doesn’t say anything more.

He hands her a large cup of water first, which she enthusiastically drinks. Then, he fixes the sheets around her thighs and places the tray beside her.

“Want this?” he asks, holding up a packet of saltines.

“Mhm.”

He rips open the plastic and crushes the crackers into her soup. She holds her hands out for the bowl, shuddering delicately when the warmth hits her. "Thank you."

Annaliese tilts her head back and sighs deeply. Her fingers curl around the spoon, stirring the soup weakly. Her hair is still in her face, and she makes no move to give herself between visual access.

Harry hesitates, but then sits on the bed beside her legs, reaching out. She shudders when his cold fingertips touch the sides of her face – though it’s just barely. He unravels the curls, separating them from her clips, and then uses two of the largest ones to pin her hair back. Annaliese’s eyes flutter shut, and through the warm morning light, he sees her fever flushed waxy skin and parted lips. He somehow resists the urge to hold her face.

“Thank you,” she murmurs again, keeping her eyes closed.

Harry doesn’t know what to say. So he stands, brings her medicine from the bathroom, and then goes to the kitchen to give her school a call. He introduces himself as Annaliese’s husband, details how she’s in no circumstance to get to work for today, and takes a wild guess to say she has lesson plans in her classroom. The administration must like her very much because the woman he talks to sounds sad to hear his wife isn't not doing well. It makes Harry feel better though, knowing that she’s well taken care of outside this odd routine they have.

He returns to her room, prepared to ask her if she needs anything more.

She’s halfway done with her soup, and the overwhelming warmth has caused her hairline to go all damp. He enters the door with a hand towel, rolling it up. When she looks up at him with her tired eyes, he’s unsure if he should be the one mopping that sweat, or if she’ll even let him.

“Did they ask what time I’ll come in?” she asks instead, voice low as if she won't be able to get it any louder.

Harry’s brows furrow together. “You’re taking the day off.”

As stubborn as always, Annaliese says, “I don’t need the entire day off. Just the morning. My students have a written exam after lunchtime.”

“You are in no health to go to work today.”

Annaliese looks sad. She takes another weak spoonful of her soup.

Harry suddenly feels the urge to explain himself. “I would have made something more if I had the time,” he says, wringing the towel between his hands. “But that’s all the stock we have. We didn’t have any carrots or eggs or I would have added them in. Maybe the celery isn’t cooked all the way through either.”

His wife shakes her head, and then winces. “It’s good.”

“Is it spicy enough?”

“Yes.”

“And the pepper?”

“It’s good.”

“The salt?”

“Harry,” Annaliese whispers. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He stops, though he has several more things to say.

Annaliese looks up at him after a moment. “Will you sit?”

He does, towel still in hand. She looks at it, and then goes back to her soup until it’s finished, and she’s setting it aside. Annaliese has more water, and then she reaches for her medicine.

Harry beats her to it. He unscrews the top, pours a healthy bit into the tablespoon and then carries it over to her mouth. The dread is in her eyes, and she makes a face as she swallows it. Harry doesn’t realize he has a ghostly smile on his face until he’s putting the spoon down, watching her take several more gulps of water.

“I hate that taste more than anything,” Annaliese says.

“I know,” Harry answers softly, because he does.

Her jaw tenses, eyes glazed over with an expression Harry doesn’t have the capability to fully understand, and she slides down against the mattress, her head against the pillow. With her knees drawn up, they touch Harry’s thighs, and the briefest contact makes him yearn to feel the real touch of his wife. She closes her eyes, hands under her chin.

Her skin is still pale, her lower lip trembling with fever, and every part of him hurts knowing he can’t lay in bed with her and nurse her back to health. The reminder of his vows again deliver a swift punch to his gut, and emotion makes his throat close. The love he feels for her is binding, suffocating, and the pull to give in is so urgent, it’s a wonder that he keeps himself upright instead of draping his body over hers.

Annaliese doesn’t ask him to do anything more either.

So he takes a deep breath, rolls up the towel a bit better and then carefully lays it against her hairline. She shifts to let him adjust it better, lets him pull the covers over her bare shoulder to shield her from the cold and also to get the idea of kissing her burning skin out of his head.

It goes without saying, but he says it anyway. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Annaliese nods once, eyes still shut.

He wonders if she’s upset with him. The thought of disappointing her makes him want to double over with anger at himself.

He's entirely pathetic. How dare he think he can keep his wife satisfied.

As he’s exiting her room, he passes by the dresser. On it, more framed photos sit. Some from their wedding, some of their families. The picture that rests on her side table once sat with the rest on her dresser. He wonders when she brought that one closer to her. If she looks at it every night before she goes to sleep, every morning when she wakes. If she holds it under her pillow or her cheek to have him right beside her. If she stains the glass with her tears.

Harry turns his head to look at Annaliese once more. She’s asleep, and though she’s fed and being brought back to good health, Harry has never felt more of a failure in his life.

He shuts the door behind him when he leaves, puts the dishes in the sink, and then goes to his room wishing Annaliese would rip the bandaid off and find someone better for herself.

#wtss #harry and annaliese #that was fun!#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x oc #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

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loving you

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 961

warnings: um, literally none? let me know if i missed something though

a/n: wanted to write something for baby’s birthday. don’t bully me about the age i’m being self-indulgent, okay? but anyways, posting this now so it’ll be up all day on his birthday. also tagging @clovermunson for helping me out with a certain fuzzy fellow. love you guys!!! <3

————

Billy is warm beside you. That’s one of your favorite things about him.

Even if there are times where you get hot and have to push him off because he’s making you sweat, there are still the times that you get to cuddle up to him when you’re cold. And he’ll tuck you into his side to warm you up. Just like he’s doing now.

His socked feet are propped up on the coffee table, the rest of him covered by a blanket that the both of you share. His arm is wrapped around your back, fingers spread across your stomach where his hand has slipped underneath the fabric of your shirt.

Every once in a while he’ll scratch over your belly, dull nails sending chills up your spine. Your hand is tucked underneath his thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth over his leg.

Billy’s eyes are on the tv, yours glancing back and forth between him and the clock on the wall.

You’re starting to wonder if you’ll disturb him with your little plan, just based on the way his eyes are starting to flutter shut, the way he’s melting into you.

But you don’t think he’ll mind. Not really.

The clock hand moves that little bit and the microwave numbers change, their light leaving a green cast over the kitchen counter.

12:00 am.

You sit up, twisting some so that you’re facing Billy, and your movement wakes him up a little.

He straightens, looking at you. He quirks a brow, trying to figure out what you’re up to. It’s always something.

You reach out to touch his face, and he automatically leans into it. You cup his cheeks with both hands, and then you’re pressing your lips to his.

Your mouth is warm, and he can both taste and smell the lip balm you’d put on earlier in the night. It’s a sweet kiss, long and heartfelt.

Billy brings his hand up, holding onto your wrist.

You’re thinking: I love you, I love you, I love you, and hoping you can somehow transfer the message directly into his brain through the kiss. He kisses you back, knowing exactly what you’re trying to say. Billy hasn’t shaved in a few days and his skin scratches against yours. You don’t care.

When you pull away, his lashes are fluttering and if it weren’t so dim in the living room you’re sure you’d find a blush spreading across his face.

“Happy Birthday.”

Billy smiles at you. When he speaks, his voice is tired, lovesick. “Was that my birthday kiss?”

“Only the first one,” you tell him.

“Oh, so I get more?”

Billy presses his forehead against yours, still holding onto your wrist. Your hands never leave his face, thumbs sweeping underneath his eyes.

“You want another?” You ask. The question makes him chuckle.

“Pretty please.”

His lips tick up at the corners, enticing you. You press a kiss to both, to his cupid's bow, his chin. He pouts at you.

“Come on. It’s my birthday,” Billy whines.

“I really set myself up for this one.” You kiss him. “Should’ve known you’d use that to your advantage.” You kiss him again.

Billy hums against your cheek where he’s now pressed his own mouth. He knows that makes you go all warm.

There’s a noise behind you, a subtle added weight to the cushion you've settled on, and you know what it is without having to turn. The mewl makes Billy aware of the presence, and he grins against your face, a slow laugh leaving his throat.

“I think he wants us to come to bed, B.”

Billy hooks his chin over your shoulder, meeting eyes with a little brown cat.

You hear the first meow your cat lets out in greeting. The second is almost like a question. Why are you still up?

Billy reaches around you, scratching behind his ears. You can hear his purring. It’s always so loud.

There’s a clambering, and Billy leans back, allowing for the young cat to squeeze between your body and the couch and up into his lap.

“Night, Cosmo,” you say. Billy snorts. “What? It’s too late to be evening.”

Cosmo ignores your words, preferring to stare at you, waiting. You scratch his chin and he mewls. It’s not unlike the response Billy might have for getting the same sort of attention.

“What do you wanna do in the morning, birthday boy? How would you like to celebrate your release from teenagedom? The big 2-0?”

Billy rolls his eyes at you and kisses the palm of your hand, having snatched it from where it was flailing midair.

“Don’t care,” he says. “We could sit here all day and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

You lean in like you need to whisper, as if you’re not in your own home. “I think Max is gonna come see you. Don’t tell her I told you, but she bought you a sash.”

“No.”

You start to laugh. “Yes. A birthday sash.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

You kiss him again, though you’re laughing and can’t take it seriously.

“Sure, baby.”

He pecks your lips once, twice. “No, I’m not.”

The polaroid you stick in the frame of your vanity mirror the next evening says otherwise. Billy is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, though loosely enough that you can see the words “Birthday Princess” in sparkly lettering on a pink sash.

He’s not looking at the camera, he’s looking at Max, listening to something she’s saying. Lucas is on the floor, back between her knees.

Billy looks so happy, cheeks flushed from all of the attention he’d had, the start of a laugh on his face.

It’s a pure, candid photo, for a true birthday princess.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove ficlet #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #billy stranger things #savannah’s fics

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wintaerbaer · 3 months

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dawning (kth)

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw

genre: established relationship au, angst, bit of fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal

a/n: another piece from my aggressively depressed era when i was trying to work some stuff out in my writing, but this one is very self-indulgent (and has a happier ending than the last one lol). and the background picture of the banner is mine! :)

MASTERLIST

He doesn’t hear you get up.

He wakes in the middle of the night and rolls over in bed to find cooling sheets in the spot next to him. Lying flat on his back, he listens for sound but there’s nothing, just the chirpings of nighttime insects and the cars passing by on the streets below. It’s not the first time he’s woken to find you gone, but it hurts the same.

The fact that he’s not enough for you.

Taehyung swings his legs out of bed and sighs as his feet press against the hardwood floor, rubs the heel of his hand into an eye. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:53am, and you really could be anywhere. There are nights when you’ve just gotten up to curl on the window seat in the living room, but there have been other times where you’ve left the apartment altogether. Sometimes you go to your favorite twenty-four-hour diner for a cup of coffee, and on one horror-filled night, he’d even had to call the cops to help track you down when you’d decided to take a late night walk in the park.

You say you just need to clear your head sometimes, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s terrified that you’re trying to get yourself killed.

He stands, snatches a sweatshirt off of the chair in the corner, takes a breath as he slips it over his skin.

He’ll find you; you’ll be okay.

He saunters into the living room, moonlight painting everything a pasty white, and confirms what he already knew to be true: you’re not here. It looks as though you didn’t touch anything either, everything being just as the two of you had left it before going to bed – wineglasses and dirty dishes on the coffee table (he’d take care of them in the morning), television remote precariously balanced on the arm of the couch.

The only thing different is your missing shoes by the door.

He slides his feet into his own sneakers, mentally running through all the places you could possibly be: the diner, the park. Hell, you could be wandering around the city mindlessly—how would he find you then?

The thought speeds him on as he hastens down the stairs and outside. He could try calling your cell phone, though you almost definitely wouldn’t pick up. You probably have it on silent anyway. You do that a lot; you say the noise bothers you.

But at times like this, it scares the shit out of him.

He strides down the sidewalk with purpose. He’ll check the diner first, and if you’re not there, the park will be next. Last time, you were found traipsing around the pond by the south end, and it’s possible you might be there again.

These worries are for naught though as he spots you through the window of Stella’s, coffee mug cradled in your hands.

The bell tinkles as he walks in the door, and your eyes immediately snap up to lock with his, some emotion swirling there that he just can’t put a name on. He slides into the booth seat across from you, signals your usual waitress for a cup of coffee, and makes an attempt at a smile.

“You were gone.”

“Yeah,” you say, quiet. “Just needed to clear my head.”

He takes a moment to study you, assesses the pain in your posture. “Scale of one to ten?” he asks. You frown at your cup, think.

“Eight.” You fiddle with a spoon. “I woke up and it was hard to breathe.”

He sighs. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You’re frowning at your coffee again, haven’t looked him in the eye since he walked in. “You seemed peaceful,” you say. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

He reaches across the table to take your hand; you stiffen but doesn’t pull away. “I’ve told you, you’re never a bother. If I can help, let me help.”

You slide your hand from his grip, and there’s a long silence before you whisper, “What if you can’t?”

“What happens if you don’t let me try?” he asks, and your eyes finally meet his.

You say nothing—just stare at him—the hurt that he sees everyday peering out from under your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart, just try to help me understand what’s going on in your head.”

You break eye contact again to look long and hard out the window, and he knows he’s lost you.

“I can’t,” you say.

He slumps back in his seat, once again defeated. A cup of coffee is set in front of him, along with some creamer, and he gives the waitress a feeble smile in thanks, decides to focus on this task instead.

He pours the creamer into his mug and reaches down the table to grab a few packs of sugar, carefully tips them in. He doesn’t look at you, just slips a spoon into the cup and stirs, trying his best to not get angry.

Because he does, he wants to help. And you won’t let him in. He’s so tired of waking up to find you gone or crying in the bathroom or curled up by the window with that blank look on your face. All of this hurts him too; why can’t you see that? He just wants back the girl who wasn’t afraid to take a leap and kiss him on a rainy night in April after an umpteenth study date, and he knows you want that woman back too—he can see it in the way that you look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

He looks up at the sound of your voice and is horrified to see tears streaking down your face.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this hard,” you choke out, and any frustration that he was previously feeling dissipates immediately.

He slides into your side of the booth and hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders. You neither lean in nor resist and so he pulls you closer, tightening his embrace until you’re muffling your sobs in his shirt.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “I promise. I’m right here.”

Taehyung just so happens to look up when you walk into the room, hair swinging past your shoulders and a textbook tucked under your arm. You’re pretty, beautiful actually, but you carry yourself in a way that suggests you don’t know it. Your eyes flick up to his and he reflexively looks down at his desk, embarrassed to be caught staring.

He busies himself with his phone, trying to act nonchalant, and he can feel the blush creeping into his face when you quietly take the seat next to him.

“Can I borrow a pen?” you ask after a few awkward seconds. He nods and fumbles around in his bag, still not looking at you for fear that he’s making a fool of himself—he can’t even find a damn pen. And sure enough, when he finally does locate one in the very depths of his backpack and hands it to you, your lips are twisted with barely held back laughter.

He’s thankful when the professor walks into the room and your eyes are no longer trained on him, making his heart beat faster than it ever has.

It’s barely a week before Taehyung once again wakes to find your side of the bed empty. He scrubs a hand down his face, gives a light shake of his head to clear the fog of sleep.

The clock on the nightstand reads 4:37am.

He rolls out of bed, rubs at his bicep where the faint prickling of pins-and-needles irritates the muscle. Then comes the habitual check for any noises that might indicate that you’re still in the apartment.

Nothing.

He slips on a jacket, slides his feet into a pair of boots, and tromps out of the room, stumbling into the wall ever so slightly from the grogginess that still weighs him down. He hopes you’re at Stella’s; he could use a cup of coffee right about now.

He crosses through the living room and is halfway out the door when he hears the voice.

“Hey.”

He spins on his heel and almost topples over. You’ve got your knees pulled up to your chest on the bench seat by the window, half of you bathing in pearly moonlight, the other half veiled in shadow.

“Hi,” he blurts. “I thought…I thought you were out.”

You shake your head, the bare hints of a smile gracing your lips. “No.”

He scratches at the back of his neck, never knowing what to do in the situations where you’re actually here. On most nights he just putters around, keeping an eye out while you impassively stare at the streets outside.

But tonight, you toe the vacant spot next to you.

“Sit with me,” you murmur.

That immediately gives him pause. He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him.

This is new.

He nudges off his shoes, drops his coat on the couch, and slowly makes his way over to where you’re curled by the window. Deciding to let you set the pace, he takes a cautious seat, back straight, hands in his lap.

“This okay?” he asks.

You cant forward, hair swinging to cover your face, but he thinks you’re laughing at him just a little bit and the knot in his chest loosens ever so slightly.

You guide him back so that his spine is pressed against the wall of the tiny nook, his legs swinging up to bracket the spot where you kneel. Then you turn so that your back is resting against his chest, before pulling his arms to wrap around your waist.

“This,” you whisper. “This is better.”

He lets out a long exhale, can’t help burying his nose in the hair at your neck. “Love you.”

You hum, leaning back in his embrace, and little by little, he feels the tension leave your body. It warms him from head to toe, holding you, the city lights keeping you both company.

And after a while, still propped up against him, you fall asleep.

His heart is in his throat, absolutely stunned into silence by the way the sleek, midnight blue dress you’re wearing hugs every curve and slope of your body. He truly doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky or what he could have possibly done to deserve your presence in his life.

You slide up to his side, a coy little smile flirting with your mouth as you slip your hand into his.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You aimlessly walk through the streets, arm in arm, laughing at the most random things and goofing off, and when he looks at you, you just seem so…happy.

You get to the park and he feels it’s now or never, so he pulls you to a halt. You look up at him, your tongue poking through your smile, and he’s lost all of his words, doesn’t even know what he could say that would ever be enough for you. Enough for this.

So he merely gets down on his knee and pulls out the ring.

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, because you immediately gasp out a “Yes!” and join him on the ground, tightly wrapping your body around his. He clutches you to him, makes a silent promise to do everything in his power to make you happy.

To give you a reason to smile.

He’s jolted awake by your hands on his chest, shaking him violently. Eyes snapping open, Taehyung finds your face hovering over his, clearly panicked and crying.

He immediately bolts upright. “What? What’s wrong?”

You curl against his chest, sobs racking your frame. “Can’t,” you choke out. “I…I-I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He tugs you tight against him as you shake your head.

“I-it’s suffocating,” you mumble. He tries to loosen his hold and pull away, but you latch on with a “No!” and he hesitantly wraps his arms back around you.

“I…I woke you up,” you say, sobs beginning to subside.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s fine.”

“You wanted to…to help.”

Oh.

Wow.

“You want me to help? Just tell me how. You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head again, vigorously. “Please. No.”

“Then how—”

“Here,” you blurt. “Just stay here.”

He gives your shoulders a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” You press closer. “I know.”

He rubs his hands up and down your back as you gradually ease into him, your breaths evening out, and for the first time he feels hopeful. You may not be close to talking about it—may not be anywhere near opening up fully—but at least there’s this.

At least you let him hold you up.

The clock on the nightstand reads 6:13am.

a/n: pls consider liking, replying, reblogging, or sending an ask! <3

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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Hey lovely! So I heard you're looking for asks for other than poly!marauders and I love them too, but here's one for tasm!peter parker x shy!reader maybe wherein reader is always saying sorry, like it's second nature to her

like peter gives her the coat she forgotten and she says oh sorry you had to come all the way here, or she was late in one of their dates and she's like sorry I made you wait, one time she notices she was talking too much and says sorry too and peter notices how she does this for everything he does for her and he says, you know, instead of saying sorry, you can say thank you and reader is like what do you mean? and peter is like, I love doing these things for you, you don't have to say sorry, you can say like thank you for waiting for me or thank you for listening to me and he's just so sweet and yeah

love you and your writing as always!

Love you <3

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re waiting when Peter knocks, your bouncing knee rattling your coffee table while your roommate shoots you inscrutable looks out the side of her eye. You hop up at the sound, unlatching the door.

“Hi.” You smile at him, grabbing a coat from the hook by the door.

“Hey,” Peter says, mirroring your expression. He looks nice, you think. Well, Peter always looks nice, but tonight he looks all shined up and special. His hair is damp, evidence of comb marks in it, and his shirt looks like he might have actually ironed. You feel sort of honored. He holds up a heap of fabric. “Been missing this?”

It takes you a second to identify it as your coat. Your favorite coat, which you spent most of the morning looking for. “Yes!” you gasp, reaching to take it from him. “I left it at your place the other day?” He nods, and you shake your head at yourself. “Sorry I stuck you with it, I could have sworn I wore it home.”

“It’s no problem.” Peter shrugs. “It had warmed up by the time you left, so you probably weren’t thinking about it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You shake your head again, putting the substitute coat back on the hook and shrugging this one on. “Anyway, sorry. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” He steps back to let you out, leading you over to the stairs. “You look really nice,” he says, and you don’t know how he does it, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. Yours drop to your feet.

“Thanks.” You smile down towards the steps. “So do you.”

You think you can feel Peter’s grin burning into the side of your head. He changes the subject for your benefit. “You live on a pretty high floor, huh?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, breaths growing heavier even just descending. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you. You could’ve waited downstairs or something.”

“Hey, I don’t mind.” He bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “You can’t help if your landlord didn’t spring for an elevator. How’d you find this place?”

You huff a laugh. “Actually, it’s kind of a weird story.”

“Ooh, okay.” There’s teasing in Peter’s tone, the kind you’ve come to recognize as his go-to flirting technique. “Now I’ve gotta hear it.”

“Well, I responded to a post online about this girl looking for a pet sitter…”

At some point, you work up the courage to look at him while you talk. Peter’s a good listener, nodding at all the right intervals, laughing at the funny parts, brown eyes warm and encouraging. You keep getting distracted by him, but he’ll pull you right back into the story with questions like “So wait, why would she move somewhere her cat wasn’t allowed?” and “It got that attached to you?”. By the time frigid air hits your face, you realize you’ve been talking for eight stories and then some.

“Oh my gosh, sorry!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. “I can’t shut up, can I?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter tells you, just on this side of chiding. He grabs your hand from in front of your mouth, pulling it with his into his coat pocket and starting down the sidewalk at an amble. “I like hearing you.”

It takes everything in you not to wiggle your fingers in his. You hope you’re not blushing as badly as you feel like you are. “You haven’t gotten a word in since we left my place,” you tell him apologetically.

“Like that’s such a long time.” He looks down at you, giving your hand a friendly squeeze. “But okay, fine, let’s talk dinner. What do you feel like?”

You shrug. “I’m good with anything.”

“Perfect,” Peter says enthusiastically, “all my favorite foods are anything!” He grins at you sideways, worse when you roll your eyes. “Now tell me what you want to eat.”

You blow out a breath, trying not to smile. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do,” he says lightly. “Come on. Greek, Mexican, Italian? Just throw it out there.”

“Fine, maybe not Italian,” you admit, preoccupied with the way his thumb is running over your knuckles inside his coat pocket. “I had that last night. Um, do you like Irani food?”

Peter makes a quiet humming sound. “Can’t say I’ve tried it. You know anywhere nearby?”

“Yeah, there’s a place a couple blocks this way,” you say, then backtrack. “But we should get something you already know you like. What do you want to have?”

“I want to have Irani food.” He grins down at you. “I’m always up for something new.”

“No, come on.” You slow your pace, forcing him to match it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pick a place only I would like. We should go somewhere else.”

“I really do want to try it,” Peter says, tone softening slightly. “It sounds good, and I wanna learn the things you like. Come on, sweetheart, let me do this.” He gives your arm a little tug, and reluctantly, you fall into step beside him again.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Peter looks at you sideways. “You apologize a lot, you know that?”

You feel a bit of heat rise to your cheeks despite the chill. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“You don’t have to,” he says conversationally. “I mean, I don’t mind doing this stuff for you. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

You don’t, really. It feels like he should mind, like he should understand how indebted all these little things make you to him. “I just…want you to know that I know you’re inconveniencing yourself for me, if that makes sense.” You cringe at your awkward wording. “Just, that I’m not taking it for granted.”

“None of it’s a real inconvenience,” he promises you, giving your hand a little squeeze. “You could always just say thank you.”

You look up at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Peter shrugs. “I mean, I love doing things for you,” he says. “I don’t need any thanks, but instead of apologizing for, like, me bringing you your coat, you could just say thank you.” He looks down, giving you a small smile. His brown eyes are warm and gentle. “And then I’d say you’re welcome, and you could stop worrying about it so much.”

“Oh,” you all but whisper.

Peter’s patient, giving you the time you need to contemplate this while you walk, but after a minute he says, “Is this the place?”

You look up to find you’re standing under the sign of your favorite restaurant. “Yeah,” you confirm, and he releases your hand to hold the door open for you. You shoot him a tiny smile. “Thank you.”

Peter’s grin blows yours out of the water. “You’re welcome,” he replies warmly, following you through the door. His arm wraps around your shoulders, drawing you into his side as he leads you to the host stand. “Attagirl.”

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dvrk-moon · 4 months

Text

ENHYPEN ; 엔하이픈

AS FIRST DATES

requested : no

genre : fluff. just fluff

pairing : enhypen x reader

warnings : none

HEESEUNG ; 희승

i totally see him as the classic coffee shop first date, but he would definitely make sure to find a nice quaint place rather than taking you somewhere common

he LOVES the intimate atmosphere of a local coffee shop, and he thinks it’s perfect for a first date

if you don’t like coffee, he’ll take you to a locally owned tea shop instead

he pays for your drink and you guys get a sweet pastry to share in the place, and you end up talking for hours upon hours at your little table about anything and everything

he lets you try what he gets, and when you ultimately decide that you like what he has more, he just gives it to you to have

he makes the date SO SO special and you end up having a great time

REST OF THE MEMBERS BENEATH THE CUT!!

JAY ; 제이

jay takes you window shopping, and even though he initially just wants to take you regular shopping, he figures that going for a walk with you while window shopping would be more intimate

he does his research btw!! he finds a cute neighborhood with nice and locally owned shops

you end up dragging him into a cute book store and at first he’s like “ehhh i don’t know” but then you give him a look and he’s sold

you find a tote bag that you like and even though he offers to pay for it, you decline

but he doesn’t give up that easily

when you enter a cute antique shop and point out something that you like, he sneakily buys it for you and gives it to you after you leave the shop and it makes you so happy

JAKE ; 제이크

jake has a genius idea to take you hiking and at first his members are like “that could make them scared” he’s like eh it’ll be fine

and it’s a good thing that he ended up going with hiking, because he found a beautiful trail during the fall that gave you a breathtaking view of the forest

there’s an extra hill you two climb up on that isn’t a part of the trail, and it gives you an even better view

on the way down the hill, you two are holding hands to stabilize yourselves and jake ends up stumbling and taking you down with him which makes you end up in a giggling fit

on the way back down the trail, he offers to carry you on his back, and initially you decline because you don’t want a repeat of the hill, but after your feet start to ache, you take him up on his offer

when you return to the beginning of the trail, he refuses to put you down and carries you all the way back to the car

SUNGHOON ; 성훈

sunghoon decides to take you to an observatory as your first date, and it’s actually a surprise as to where he’s taking you, because he just drives to it without telling you where you were headed

he wasn’t sure how interested you were in the universe, but you were his universe, so he wanted to be able to show you what you were to him (cornball)

your breath was absolutely taken away by the view, and he even booked you two a private viewing with an astronomist

afterwards, he takes you to an overlook with minimal light pollution so you can stargaze with the time you had left

you ended up dozing off as you two were joking about how small you were in comparison to the universe, and you two nap under the stars on a blanket for half an hour

you guys ended up finding a star in the sky to claim as your own <3

SUNOO ; 선우

sunoo takes you to a pottery and initially you think it’s a place where you just paint already-made pottery, but you’re mistaken

he takes you to a place where you actually physically have to make the pottery yourselves, and you’re both beginners, so you have no clue what you’re doing

the instructor is extremely patient and helpful, but even so, sunoo keeps accidentally making it too tall and thin and then having to start over

you decide to make a simple bowl with engravings and yours turns out pretty well until the second the instructor steps out of the room for a second, because sunoo tries wiping something on you which makes you mess up your bowl

instead of being mad, you two end up messing each other’s ceramics up on purpose and both having to start from scratch, to the annoyance of your pottery instructor

when you do actually finish though, you give the instructor a bowl and sunoo gives him a cup to match your bowl!

JUNGWON ; 정원

jungwon takes you to see a local music festival, because you both had some mutual friends who were performing in a cover band

at first he wasn’t sure if you were feeling it, but as soon as you two were close to the barricade, you two felt really comfortable and started enjoying yourselves

between acts, you two would go look around and see what the vendors and food trucks had to offer, and he of course offered to buy you anything you took interest in

as the night came closer to ending, a cover band was covering “take my breath away” by berlin, and you two began mocking the couples surrounding you that were slow dancing

you two were serenading each other as a joke, but little did both of you know that it was making the other person’s heart flutter

that song later became “your song”

RIKI ; 니키

riki decided to play it safe and take you to a fun indoor putt-putt place that he’d gone to ever since he was a young boy

not only was there the nostalgic value to it, but he also loved the competitive nature of the game because he was free to tease you for being bad (or let you win)

within the first half of the game, you were pretty far behind winning, as you were extremely rusty

he started throwing the game immediately after and wasted no time in sneakily letting you win, but you just thought that you’d suddenly gotten really good, and since the loser had to pay for whatever sweet treat you two decided on

afterwards, he takes you to a nearby frozen yogurt shop and happily pays for yours and his and you two end up talking for a while before leaving and taking a lil walk while watching the sunset

you may have won the game of putt-putt, but deep down, riki knew that he won, because he was the one on a date with you :)

a/n : agagahahaaggaga hey. 5k words into my jake fic if i grind this one out it could be published by next week :p

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #sunghoon #sunoo #jungwon #ni ki #dvrk moon

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omnipresentlemon · 1 year

Text

Avatar Modern AU Headcanons: The Early Years

Spider was adopted into the family after Neytiri found him wandering around the neighborhood as a toddler in just a t-shirt and underwear on one of the coldest days of the year. She immediately went to the police station and within a week Spider was removed from the McCoskers and was taken in by the Sullys as his foster family.

Jake and Neytiri have it ROUGH for a couple years - four kids under four? Eywa have mercy.

Listen. It is inevitable that little kids have a favorite parent, but the Sully kids are a little extreme with their hardcore Mom Favoritism™️. Neteyam can only fall asleep if Neytiri sings to him. Kiri doesn’t like Jake reading their bedtime stories because “mama does the voices better.” If Spider gets hurt he is inconsolable until Neytiri kisses it better. Lo’ak throws a tantrum for at least an hour every time Neytiri leaves them with Jake. My dude is being bullied mercilessly by kids who can’t even spell their names yet.

I fully support @be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie’s headcanon that Jake and Lo’ak are mortal enemies until Lo’ak hits about 5. But like, in a Megamind kinda way.

Whenever Lo’ak is acting up Jake pretends to call Santa and tell him to put Lo’ak on the naughty list.

Lo’ak will tell other adults the most embarrassing shit about Jake in the worst circumstances.

When Lo’ak is two and realizes his parents have names other than mama and daddy, he calls Jake by his first name only for three months. Imagine trying to discipline your two-year old and he whips out the first name.

In retaliation, Jake refers to Lo’ak as “the brat attack” until Neytiri reminds him that he’s the adult in this situation. He still does it sometimes when Neytiri isn’t around.

Neytiri has the mom reflexes of a god. No ER trips on her watch.

In fact, the first ER visit for the Sullys was when Neytiri left the kids with Jake to go shopping with Mo’at for some baby stuff while she was pregnant with Tuk. They don’t even make it down the street before Jake is frantically calling about Spider splitting his head open on the edge of the coffee table.

Spider is the most accident prone of the kids not due to clumsiness but a serious lack of survival skills and critical thinking. He used to throw himself off the top of the bunk bed he shared with Lo’ak just for fun.

Spider is technically the oldest, but due to the McCosker’s neglect he has some developmental delays and regressive behavior. Neteyam loves being able to act like a big brother for Spider even though he’s a year younger. They have a rough patch when they’re a bit older and Spider starts to assert himself more, but at the end of the day they’re Team Eldest and lean on each other a lot.

Kiri was a leash kid. Jake thought it was embarrassing but Neytiri could no take another incident of Kiri disappearing in public because she saw something interesting and wandered off to investigate.

Bluey is a staple in the Sully household. Jake and Neytiri are just happy that the chokehold Paw Patrol had on their kids seems to have gone away. Plus, now whenever they’re mean to each other, they just have to ask, “would Bluey and Bingo treat each other like this?” It results in an instant apology 99% of the time.

They talk back to their kids babble like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Neytiri has full-on soap opera plots. The kids find it hilarious.

Jake, at the end of the day, is a military dad. And that means it’s MMA every day in the Sully household, starting young. He’ll suplex them into the couch, throw them onto the bed from across the room, toss them so high in the air he sees the bottom of their feet. Neytiri at first hates it, but she sees how gentle Jake is and tries to let it go. Even if it gives her heart palpitations.

Neteyam’s first word was “dada”, Kiri’s “mama”, and Lo’ak’s “no”. Spider’s speech was severely delayed and it took half a year of speech therapy to get him where he needed to be developmentally, so there’s was hot competition between Jake and Neytiri over who would get his first word.

It’s neither of them. Spider’s first word was “Teyam”. Even when they’re older Neteyam lords it over Spider’s head (but if he thinks too much about it it’ll make him cry, he just loves his brother so much).

I def have more of these percolating in my brain, but for now, enjoy!

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #jake sully #neytiri #spider socorro #spider soccoro sully #lo’ak sully #kiri sully #neteyam sully #avatar headcanons

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

Text

Eddie is different, afterwards. Dustin doesn’t understand why no one is doing anything about it. It’s like the spark has gone out of him, except with Eddie it wasn’t just a spark, it was fireworks, and now he’s like the old flashlight Dustin once found at the back of his closet that barely flickered.

When Eddie doesn’t even want to play D&D, Dustin tries talking about it with Will. He tells him he doesn’t know why Eddie can’t just snap out of it, and Will glares at him like he suggested raising another baby demodog. In retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have made light of being trapped in the Upside Down with the only other guy he knows who went through the same thing.

Dustin knows Eddie’s gone through some shit, he does. But the truth is he misses him, misses his confident swagger, his disdain for people who are afraid to wave their freak flag high. He misses his big smile, and his crazy faces. He misses the way Eddie took care of his little lost sheep.

The government gave Eddie and Wayne a new trailer, but Dustin hasn’t seen it yet. Max spends as much time as she can with El or hanging out at the Wheeler’s, saying the trailer park still feels haunted to her. Dustin wonders what it’s like for Eddie, still being there every day, in the place he saw Chrissy die.

Dustin goes to summer camp again, and for a while he’s able to put it all out of his mind. Suzie is there, and being with her is awesome. For four weeks he tries to pretend that the insanity and terror of living in Hawkins is no big deal. But then he comes back home.

After a few days of riding around town on his bike and hanging out with the party, Dustin decides to organize a trip to the arcade. He tries to call Steve for a ride, but there’s no answer at his house, and when he goes to get the walkie Mike stops him, saying he thinks he’s busy. Dustin protests for a while, but finally gives up when El tells him that the Byers are having a barbeque that weekend and he’ll see Steve then.

Saturday dawns hot and bright, and Dustin puts on his favorite camp shirt and heads over to the Byers’ new house early. Joyce gives him a warm hug, like always, and he goofs around with Will until Jonathan forces them to help set up chairs in the backyard. People start arriving around lunchtime, but it isn’t until he’s eaten two ketchup-drenched hot dogs and an overcooked burger that he sees Steve arrive, Eddie trailing close behind him.

He wants to run over and give Eddie a giant hug, better even than the one Dustin got from Joyce, but Robin suddenly appears next to him and puts a hand on his arm to hold him back. “Let him ease into it,” she says softly. Dustin doesn’t know why Eddie would need to ease into hanging out with his friends, but something in Robin’s tone tells him not to argue.

Eventually Dustin decides enough is enough. He finds Eddie in the house, sitting next to Steve on the couch, talking softly with Hopper who is leaning against an armchair. They all swivel their heads towards him when he pokes his head in, and Hopper nods and leaves the room, grunting some kind of greeting at Dustin as he goes by.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steve says, and Dustin stumbles over both his feet and his words as he throws himself at the two of them. Steve catches him and holds him tight, and he feels Eddie wrap an arm around him too.

“I want everyone to be okay,�� Dustin mumbles, feeling like an idiot but not able to really say anything else.

“We’re okay, dude, don’t worry,” Steve says. “I mean, Hopper’s grill skills could use some work, but generally speaking that’s not a big deal.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? You know that’s not what I mean.” Dustin pushes out of their hold and sits on the coffee table. He looks at Eddie, and then Steve, who exchange a weird glance, and then Eddie leans forward.

“I’m sorry, bud. It really wasn’t my year, I guess. But-” Eddie’s eyes flash over to Steve, who gives him a wry grin and knocks their knees together. “Things are looking up. I’m okay. Really.”

Dustin realizes that Eddie does seem better. He’s completely lost that gray haze. Even his hair looks better, bouncier, like Steve has been sharing his secrets. “Do you swear?” he asks, his throat tight.

Eddie laughs, and it makes something glad and joyful bubble up in Dustin’s chest. Steve looks happy about it too, and he grabs Eddie around his shoulders and pulls him close to his side, making Eddie laugh some more and then rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah, I swear.”

Dustin hears Nancy announcing something about ice pops, and he decides he better get out there before all the good flavors are taken. “All right. Fine. See you around?”

“For sure,” Eddie says, and it’s a little softer and quieter than maybe Eddie was before, but Dustin still feels that warmth inside him. Because the spark is back in Eddie’s eyes. It’s not quite fireworks yet, but it’s there, and it’s awesome.

#Stranger Things #Steddie #Steddie fic #Dustin Henderson #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fic #Steddie ficlet

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lostfirefly · 21 days

Text

I will lay it at your feet, and I won't hold back anything, 'cause what you are is all, what you are is all of me

I dedicate this fic to everyone! But this is also my little gift to my manager @gingernut1314 :) She reblogs every chapter of my story with Buggy and OC and supports my crazy ideas in writing fanfiction! English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Buggy and Fem.Reader (also fits for GN reader) - Masterlist is here.

Description: You haven't seen Buggy for several days, he's throwing you a candlelit dinner. Fluffy fluff!

WC: 1619

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots

The title is taken from “All of Me” by Ashes Remain.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You hardly saw Buggy for several days. About the fact that he generally appears in your shared cabin, you understood when in the middle of the night his tired body fell onto the bed, the mattress sagged under his weight, and you instantly rolled into his arms. In the morning, you woke up, but saw only an empty bed and his scattered things.

“Someday he’ll learn to put his socks away,” you mumbled, standing in your pajamas in the middle of your shared bedroom, looking around the floor. “At least it’s clear that he was here.” You chuckled, picking up your socks and tossing them on the chair.

You went into the kitchen to pour yourself some coffee and sat down at the table. Suddenly, Mohji rushed into the kitchen to get a basket of apples for Richie.

“Hey, Mohji! Stop!” You called out to him. He stopped abruptly, and several apples fell out of the basket.

“Yes, Y/N.” He asked, picking up apples from the floor.

“Have you seen Buggy today? I’ve hardly seen him for four days. I understand he’s busy with his captain’s things, but I don’t even see him in the kitchen. Or hanging upside down somewhere in the mast area.” You giggled, imagining this picture, and took a sip of coffee.

Mohji, finally collected all the apples, tightly clutching the basket, came up to you. “I didn't see him.” He winked.

"What was that?" You asked, narrowing one eye. "You winked. Do you know where he is? Have you seen him?"

“I didn't wink. And I don't know where he is.” He winked again.

“There! You did it again! Do you know where he is? Tell me. I won't tell him it was you. I just.. I don't know. I miss him.” You became sad and began to twirl the cup in your hands.

From the moment you fell in love with Captain Buggy and stayed with him on the ship, you and Mohji became very close friends and sometimes spent time chatting. You told him how to communicate with girls, he helped you make friends with Richie.

“Sorry, Y/N, I don’t know where he is.” He winked again.

“Oh, go to hell! I hope Richie eats you this morning.” You waved your hand at Mohji.

But still? Where's Buggy? Maybe while you're waiting for him, he's hugging one of the girls on his team right now. No, no. He can't do that. You decided to wait for him tonight at all costs.

In the evening, while the team was having dinner, Captain Buggy did not appear again. You were about to open a bottle of wine, but suddenly grabbed it in your hands and walked along the deck.

“Fuck this! I’ll find him and tell him everything.” You muttered under your breath. As you walked past his office cabin, you noticed Buggy's shadow. “Gotcha!” You looked out the small window. You raised your hand to knock, but Mohji stopped you.

“You can't go there!” He said in a half whisper.

“Why?” You asked in surprise. “Does he have someone there? God, does he have someone there?” You felt like your head was spinning

“Don’t talk nonsense, Y/N, since you appeared in his life, he has no one. And you know it very well!” He hissed at you.

“What's all the noise here?” A deep voice was heard next to your ear. You and Mohji slowly turned your heads. Buggy's head was sticking out from behind the slightly open door.

“I.. I’m sorry, Captain! It’s Y/N’s fault!” Mohji lowered his head in shame and pointed his finger at you.

“Bastard!” You muttered through your teeth.

Buggy left the cabinet and closed the door behind him. “Get out!!” He barked at Mohji and he quickly disappeared.

“Well, Y/N.” Buggy crossed his arms. “What's all the commotion? Is someone attacking us?” He asked rather dryly.

“What? No! I just.. Just. I haven’t seen you for several days. I miss you. See, I even brought wine with me. Let's consider this an apology gift.” You raised the bottle higher and smiled.

“You could have waited another hour and not started a race all over the ship.” Buggy smiled back, cracked the door to the cabin, looked in and closed it again. “Alright, okay. What difference does it make... Everything is ready. Close your eyes.”

You looked at him with round eyes. “What?”

“Oh my God, Y/N, my marshmallow, close your eyes. Is that too much to ask?” He growled.

“OK.” You shrugged and closed your eyes.

“And so that you don't peep.” Buggy stood up behind you and covered your eyes with his palm. “Let's go. Carefully. Step one. Step two. Step one. Step two. See, we're almost dancing.”

“Yeah, but where are we dancing? You'll feed me to the sharks for my curiosity, right?” You put your hand on his hand.

“What? Of course not! If I feed you to the sharks, who will I warm at night?” Buggy carefully led you somewhere and removed his hand from your eyes. “Now, my marshmallow, you can open your eyes!”

You opened one eye, then the other. “What is this?”

In the middle of the cabin, in the twilight, there was a round table covered with a red and white striped tablecloth. Candles, wine, snacks and two chairs.

“This? This's the table.” Buggy answered calmly and shrugged, not understanding your question.

“I understand that this is the table, Buggy. But that’s all. What's this?” You pointed your finger at snacks and wine.

“Oh! I was preparing a surprise for you. For several days in a row, I sent someone from the crew to the nearest island to buy all the ingredients for your favorite dishes, and then made Cabaji cook it all.” Buggy put his hand on your back and gently walked you to the chair. “Sit down.” He pulled out the chair and helped you sit down.

“Really? Did you make Cabaji cook?” You started laughing, placing the bottle of wine on the table.

“I’m the captain of this ship, Y/N. I can force whoever I want to cook. I walk where I want, I order what I want. And now I order you to enjoy the evening.” Buggy took the wine you brought and easily opened the bottle, pouring the drink into your glass. “We drink to you, my marshmallow!”

“To me?” You were surprised, making yourself more comfortable in your chair. “Why?”

He blushed under all his clown makeup. “Well... You came into my life by chance…”

“Yeah, crashing into you with a bike was weird.” You took a sip of wine and crossed your legs.

“Hey! Not only did you crash, you also wanted to steal my money! No one dares steal from Buggy the Clown.”

“I wasn’t trying to steal. My hand just slipped under your coat, Buggy.” You shrugged one shoulder and narrowed your eyes.

“Liar!” He put some snacks for you. “So. I'm glad you came into my life.” Buggy blushed with every word he uttered and was already becoming like a beetroot.

You finished your wine and set the empty glass on the table, Buggy moved it toward you to refill it. “So, Captain. You cooked all this for me? Why didn't you just say so? I was honestly starting to think that you were... Well, uh... Cheated on me with someone.”

He froze and spilled wine on the tablecloth. “What?” He asked in surprise. “What did you think?”

“Buggy, the table! You spilled the wine.” You grabbed the napkins and quickly wiped up the drink residue.

“Fuck the table and fuck the wine. How could you even think that?” He froze with the bottle in his hand.

“I don't know. I'm with your team and on your ship not too long ago. How long? A month? So I was wondering.... I'm sorry.” You started running your finger across the table.

"A month and four days." He muttered quietly.

"What? Are you counting?" You asked in surprise.

“No. My memory's good.” Buggy blushed even more under his makeup and set the bottle on the table. “But Y/N, my marshmallow.” He took your hand and pulled you into his lap. “You have nothing to worry about.”

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck. Buggy immediately put his arms around your waist.

“I actually...this whole dinner thing. Well. I did. To say. Well. I love you.” He looked into your eyes.

You froze for a second, feeling a slight chill run through your entire body. “You what?” You asked, starting to stroke his bandana.

“Damn. It's early, right? I said it too soon. I knew it. That's it, forget it. I don't love you. I was joking. I'm the clown. Clowns always make jokes.” Buggy became nervous.

“What? No!” You kissed his red nose. “I just didn't expect that I wasn't the only one. You know… Who has feelings.” You said, looking intently into his green eyes.

He looked at you blankly.

“For those who don’t understand, Buggy the Clown. I love you too. Since I saw you for the first time. A fucking pot-bellied naked kid named Cupid hit my heart with a blue arrow.” You giggled and took his bandana off. “Here, it’s much better with your hair down.”

“So, we both love each other, right?” He asked, looking into your eyes and stroking your arm.

“Well, it turns out like this.” You shrugged and slowly brought your lips closer to his.

“Say it again.” He whispered against your lips.

You smashed your lips to his the moment he stopped talking. “I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” You kissed him again.

#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy live action #one piece live action #buggy one piece #opla buggy the clown #buggy fanfiction #buggy fic #opla buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #buggy x female reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader

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louloulemons-posts · 7 months

Text

Oil At The Coffee Shop IV

Eddie X Fem!Reader

Summary : Reader wants to apologise to the Munsons, having a heart to heart with one and panicking the other.

Word Count : 1.7k

Warnings : Not proofread, not much eddie x reader, uncle wayne’s an icon, max x lucas, petnames from wayne and another, rambly, talks of maxs injuries, mentions of scaring, mentions of the earthquakes/upside down, homeless shelter

Fic Masterlist

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The first week had been manic, it was now Saturday evening, and you and Max were doing the final clean up of the week. “Hey I was just wondering, do you know if any of your friends are looking for jobs?” you asked her.

“I’m not sure, I could ask.”

“If you don’t mind, I think we could use another staff member, or two,” you smiled at her. “I think so, my feet are killing me.”

“Hey if you need a few days off I don’t mind.”

“No no! It’s okay. It’s just a lot, I was injured a few years back so sometimes my body slows down a bit.”

“Oh Max, you should have told me, I would

have given you more breaks.”

“It’s fine really, I want to be able to do this stuff again.”

“Was it the earthquakes?” you asked her.

��Yeah,” she sighed, “Doctors said I was lucky to be alive.”

“You’re a strong kid Max, you’re going to do amazing things. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, sweeping the floor up. “What happened with Eddie?” She asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well I just mean you know each other, how’s that?”

“Just through Steve and he fixed my car. Don’t think he likes me much in all honesty.”

“Why?”

“I think I offended him. I gave him and Wayne a big tip after fixing my car just to say thank you.”

She nodded, stopping her sweeping, “Eddies not too trusting. I know you meant it to be nice, but he worries about his uncle. Wants to make sure nobody’s being nice to just screw them over,” she explained.

“I see. So how much did I mess up?”

“Don’t worry about it, he’ll forgive you. Wayne will make him,” she chuckled.

“Is there any reason he’s like that? Like not trusting?” Max seemed like she didn’t know how to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me Max, it’s none of my business.”

“Eddies just always been I don’t know … different. He’s not good around new people. That’s all it is, he’ll warm up to you. Especially if your close to Steve and now me. Eddie loves me,” she shrugged.

“Well maybe I’ll go and apologise, take some Cherry turnovers as a white flag.” Grabbing a box you put four of the fresher turnovers in, wrapping them up so they wouldn’t be damaged.

“Well that’s the way to the Munsons hearts, food,” she joked. There was a knock on the door. “That must be Lucas, can I let him in?”

“Course Honey,” you said and the young girl almost skipped to the door.

Hearing them greeting each other you smiled, sorting out Maxs pay, so she could go. “Hi Lucas, how’s it going?” You said to the boy. “I’m good, how’s it been today? Max causing you trouble?” He joked, making his girlfriend hit him lightly.

“She’s been golden,” you smiled, handing her the money. “You two get out of here, have a good night.”

“You sure? I can stay,” she said, almost concerned. “I promise I’ll be okay. You enjoy the rest of your weekend, I’ll see you Monday.”

The young couple waved goodbye, left you to finish everything for the weekend. You planned to take the leftovers that wouldn’t last the weekend, to the shelter in town. Then of course stop off at Munsons mechanics.

There wasn’t a lot to do now that Max had gone, just finish up the sweeping and wrap up food to go. Flicking the lights off you headed out, locking up behind yourself.

Climbing in your, now working, car, you were on your way.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“This is really generous, are you sure?” a woman with dark hair asked, as you placed the boxes of food down on a table. “They’d go to waste, people need food and I have extra.”

“That’s so kind of you, thank you.” She took the boxes and headed over to what you assumed the kitchen was. It was crazy to think that the earthquakes happened a while back and there were so many people here.

A big board sat to the side, thick with missing posters. Some people with waiting for others to come home, some waiting for their homes to come back, and others had nowhere and nothing but this place and the people in it.

Your name being called pulled you out of your trance. Turning you saw a familiar face, “Robin, hi. How’s it going?” you smiled.

“Great, it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Just come to drop off some food, how about you?”

“Oh Vickie is one of the people in charge here, I help out on my days off. Have you met her?” she asked.

“Briefly. The night we went out, she came to pick you up.”

“Ah, explains why I can’t remember. Can I defend myself and say I don’t always get like that,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Trust me, shots don’t sit right with me either.”

Smiling in comfort now, “Well I need to get off, I’m hoping to catch Wayne before he leave the mechanics,” you explained.

“Your car in trouble again?”

“No, nothing like that. Just need to discuss something with him.”

“Oh well if he isn’t there he lives in Forest Hills, near the edge of town.”

“The trailer park?” Humming, Robin answered, “Yeah even though he has the mechanics he never wants to move.”

“Right well thanks, I’ll see you soon. Hopefully we can hang out and I can meet Vickie properly,” you spoke, not in the sarcastic way where you never actually want to meet up, sincerely you did.

“I hope so, I think Steve’s having a big barbecue like to celebrate the end of Summer or something.”

“Sounds like Steve. I’ll see you.” Waving goodbye you headed back to your car.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

There was no luck at the mechanics, and you wouldn’t have time during the week or tomorrow. You had to go and buy stock and sort out some changes to the menu.

It felt a bit strange driving to the Wayne’s home, you hated showing up uninvited, but you needed to apologise and make sure he knew it wasn’t meant maliciously.

You drove through, not really sure where to go. Slowing down by a middle aged man, you opened your window. “Excuse me,” you spoke, attempting not to make him jump.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where Wayne Munson lives?”

“Who’s asking?” he asked almost cautiously. “Oh uh, a client? A friend?” you told him your name.

“Right,” he grunted, “He lives on the back of the park, you’ll see his car. Just keep driving. Watch yourself.” You looked at him confused. “You say you’re a friend of the Munsons, be careful Honey, that might not be friends you’re wanting.”

“Right. Thanks for you help,” you said, rolling up the window and continuing on your way. How strange.

He was right, the man, you spotted Wayne’s car. The trailer seemed to be set further back than the others. Isolated almost.

You picked up the box of turn overs and headed to the door, tapping on it twice. “Just coming!” a voice shouted. A familiar face appeared around the door. “Hey Honey! What are you doing here?” Wayne asked.

“I was just wondering if we could talk? I brought some Cherry turnovers,” you motioned to the box in your hand. “Well you’ve twisted my arm, come on in,” he joked.

“Sweet tea?” he asked.

“Please,” you smiled.

“You take a seat, I’ll get us some drinks and plates.” You did so, sitting on a beige couch with floral patterning on it.

A maroon arm chair sat in the corner, you could only assume that was Waynes chair. Mugs and caps covered the walls, all unique, not one even remotely similar to another.

“Here you go Honey,” he smiled, placing the glass in front of you and the plate. He took out one of the turnovers and split it with a knife, giving you half. “Thank you,” you smiled to him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit your shop yet, everyone’s travelling back from vacation. Cars are overheating and breaking down left right and centre.”

“It’s alright,” you told him, taking a sip of the tea. It was amazing.

“Oh wow,” you spoke.

“It’s good isn’t it?” he laughed.

“It’s delicious!”

“Maybe one day’ll give you the recipe and you can sell it in that shop of yours.”

“That would be great.”

“So what did we need to talk about?” he asked, taking a bite of the sweet treat and humming in delight. “Well I … I’m sorry if I offended you, that was never my intention Mr Munson.”

“Offend me? Honey how could you offend me?”

“When I, when I gave Eddie the money for my car he came back. I didn’t mean to upset him or you, I was just trying to be nice and say thank you I swear.”

“Why did Eddie come back?”

“Cause I left you a tip.”

“Oh Honey, that’s so generous, but you don’t need to do that for us.”

“It was just meant to be a thank you I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just Eddie being cautious. I was wondering where that extra $65 came from.”

“I am sorry Mr Munson.”

“Stop apologising, you didn’t do nothing wrong and the names Wayne. You can use it.” You nodded, taking another sip of your drink. “I just wanted to say sorry that’s why I came here. When I see Eddie I’ll say sorry to him too. I was rude to him.”

“Probably deserved it, he gets snappy when his guards up. Don’t take it personal, he’ll warm up to you. The whole towns already chatting up a storm about you.”

“You don’t say?”

“Mhm so many of the boys at the shop are talking about Callie’s lovely niece.”

“Well that’s very kind of them.”

“It’s true, you seem lovely-“ A door in the trailer opened and another voice came, “You taking to yourself old man?”

You could hear the smile in his tone as he walked down the hall to find you and Wayne sat drinking tea and chatting like old friends.

Eddie Munson stood there, in all his glory. No shirt, towel around his waist, curly hair dripping on the floor. You could see the panic in his face, not understanding why at first, but then you saw them.

They were all over his body.

They covered him.

Scars.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : OH SHIT

Thank you so much for reading 🤍

Taglist : @corrodedseraphine @flawiette @witchwolflea @emxxblog

let me know if you want to be added

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wheatnoodle · 11 months

Text

this has been rolling around in my head for weeks and i need to at least express it so i can maybe get motivation to write it in more detail LMAO

night shift by lucy dacus but steve getting over nancy and being able to move on.

failed relationships and rebounds because he can’t even kiss someone else without gagging. he’s on first dates with heidi or sara or payton or becca or whoever it is this time that never make it to a second because he probably calls them by her name at some point.

scrolling through old texts and love letters and her social media even though he knows he’s just going to find things to hurt himself more than he already is. he wants to scream out loud what a bitch she is and how much she hurt him, but he resists and instead keeps scrolling. he wants to shout at her and leave before she can respond.

steve keeps finding himself in places where he ends up seeing nancy and jonathan together, happy. you’d think with everyone in the city instead of a small town now, they wouldn’t run into each other so much, but the universe seems to just have it out for him. it’s killing robin seeing him so heartbroken too.

it’s only about two months later when he gets a text from nancy asking to meet for coffee so they can talk, even though it’s 6pm so it won’t be light for long.

but, he agrees and she’s sitting at a table by the window in the corner and she looks…beautiful. like she always has. she looks up when he walks over, standing in what looks like a “going for a hug” pose. she stops though when he seems to hesitate and gives a polite smile, holding out a hand to shake instead.

nancy’s already ordered their drinks and someone places them on the table right when he sits. of course she remembered his order.

“so…” he says, a bit awkward, a lot quiet.

“…so…” she responds, except now she won’t look away from her lap. steve waits for her to say something, anything. maybe an explanation as to why she wanted to see him, why now, why here, what did she need to tell him?

so he waits.

and he waits.

…and he waits…

and she still wont say anything. so he puts down his mug, and he does.

“am i just supposed to sit here and watch you stare at your feet?”

she looks up then, eyes wide like she’s been caught. she looks nervous. it almost makes him feel bad for speaking up.

“steve-“

“what was the plan? to what…absolve your guilt? shake hands again?” she doesn’t respond. steve sighs and shakes his head.

“you cheated on me. that’s just how it is. i feel no need to forgive you, but i might as well, because i just want to move on.”

he doesn’t want to be here anymore. he can’t breathe. they only last a bit longer of light chat before he’s checking his watch (it’s only coming up on 7) and rising from his chair. she does too and asks if she can kiss him one last time. he just pays for his coffee, says a quick goodbye, and leaves just as the sun sets.

steve cant see her anymore. never again. never again. he’s so stuck in his head he doesn’t notice it’s coming on 11pm and he’s been walking the whole time until an owl in a tree has him looking up at the now dark sky and street lights. he’s back home around midnight and instantly has robin wrapped around his middle, rambling about how worried she had been. he went to talk to nancy, then just disappeared for hours. not answering texts, calls.

he tells her about everything. what she had said. how she seems to show up everywhere he goes. she holds him close, his head on her chest as they lay on their couch.

he quits his day job, robin does as well, and they end up working overnight shifts at a bar/restaurant. depending on the night, they’re either bartending or waiting the table in the bar area. they sleep during the day, go out at night.

steve stops bumping into her everywhere he goes. they’re on different schedules now. he’ll never be up to a read a sunday paper with her name on it since he’ll have just gotten into bed after a long shift.

a couple years down the line, there’s a band that starts playing at their bar, every friday and saturday nights.

they play a heavy version of california dreamin’ that suddenly throws steve back to kissing nancy in the backseat of his car to this song when they were in high school. steve needs to excuse himself for a smoke break, needs to calm his nausea and his nerves.

he’s out back for about five minutes when the back door opens. he flinches at the sound and backs against the wall, though the man quickly raises his hands up.

“sorry! didn’t mean to scare you. uh, i was lookin’ for a place to smoke. you mind if i join you?” the man says, an apologetic smile playing on his lips. steve’s brain short circuits at the sight of him. this man is GODLY, bro, okay, he’s HOT. AWOOGA. he’s all wild, dark hair and big brown eyes. a smile that has something wicked and sweet hidden in it. he’s tall too, only about two inches taller than steve, but still.

steve’s eyes catch on the light reflecting off his rings. he knows his cheeks are burning. “yeah, yeah that’s um…yeah, that’s fine.”

“cool,” the man says and lights his cigarette. steve goes back to leaning on the wall and sucking his own cigarette. “so, what’s got a pretty thing like you out here all on your lonesome?”

steve may or may not choke on his smoke a little. “needed some air. started…thinkin’ too much. what about you?”

“also, needed a breather. worked up a hell of a sweat up there.” and then it clicks and steve is smacking himself in the forehead.

“you’re in the band!”

“i am! you’re in the bar!”

“i am!”

and steve learns his name is eddie, and eddie starts coming in more than just fridays and saturdays. he won’t even drink, just get a water and stare at or talk to steve.

it takes almost 9 months before they start dating and another few after that before eddie practically moves in with steve and robin.

and he has never felt more loved. eddie who sings in the shower too loud and gives the crispiest bacon strips to robin. eddie who holds him during movies on the couch and covers steve’s eyes if he knows a scene in a horror movie might be too much, even though robin will narrate the whole thing. eddie who strokes his hair and rubs his back until he falls asleep and brings him everywhere he goes.

and songs that he once dedicated to nancy are now for eddie and all the new ones that come along are all for eddie too.

and he moves on, and he never sees her again.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steddie au #steddie #steve harrington au #robin buckley au #eddie munson au #stranger things au #stranger things fic #steddie fic #stobin

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titaniasfairy · 4 months

Text

john price might be a little territorial

cw: fem!reader, soft dom!price, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v,

honestly got this idea after @glossysoap mentioned needing to experience beard burn 😭

18+ MDNI !!

being a liaison for the SAS unit, specifically the task force 141, was working out wonderfully for you.

despite you being a glorified paperwork handler, the job had its perks. with government healthcare and a pretty hefty salary, you were going along just fine.

not to mention your co-workers, who are just lovely. most of them have become your best friends who you can tell anything to.

soap who’s just a sweetheart, always trying to help you in whatever way possible. you remember one day where he brought you lunch because you were so busy with your reports, saying he couldn’t stand to see you hungry.

gaz who’s so patient with you! he doesn’t mind if it takes a little longer to get his files turned in or his mission reviews typed up. some nights he’ll even bring you a cup of coffee to keep you awake.

ghost who’s just a gentle giant. always telling you dad jokes to brighten up your day, going above and beyond to make you smile. he’ll leave sticky notes on your desk with silly puns or inside jokes to make the day a little easier.

and captain john price, who never fails to make you cum. after a long, hard night he’ll come knocking on your office door to lay you down on your desk and fuck you with his fingers. his thick digits will curl up into your g-spot to make your legs spasm and your back arch.

if you ever needed an off day to destress or relax, best believe he’s at your door the moment he finds out. in his eyes, the best way to destress is to bend you over the bed and fuck you into oblivion.

while your moments with him are so blissful, the second he leaves you’re stuck in a state of loneliness. you’ll lay in your bed that just feels so cold without his warming presence. john says he can’t spend the nights, afraid of what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship.

but this idea changed all so suddenly.

the team was out one night celebrating their recent mission. they sat in a dimly lit pub drinking in celebration. while john was only a bit buzzed, the rest of the team was piss drunk.

gaz and soap were arm wrestling , and simon was acting as a ‘judge’ for the contest. the three of them were laughing hysterically when price’s phone rang.

you were still on base getting some reports done, and had to ask john an important question on filing the documents. you got your answer and thanked him before hanging up.

when john put his phone away, the boy’s focus was now on him and his phone call. gaz asked if it was you on the phone with a cheeky look on his face and john nodded.

“did ya’ see what she was wearin’ today? i could barely take my eyes off of er’ arse in that skirt.” johnny said while sipping his pint.

“cmon, soap be a gentleman.” kyle said while nudging his teammate’s shoulder.

“don’t deny it! you n’ LT were just goin’ on about how good her tits looked in that blouse last week!”

“he’s right, gaz.” simon mumbled out from the other side of the table.

all the while price was clenching his fists furiously. he couldn’t stand having his men talk about what was his— what only he could have. he stood up suddenly and gathered his things.

“i’m goin’ home, got laundry to do.” it was a bold face lie. price had no intention of going home, not until he claimed you for the night.

before the boys could say anything john was gone. he slammed the door of his truck closed and started the engine, dead set on making you know you’re his.

price’s hands gripped the steering wheel hard, his jeans growing tighter just at the thought of what he was going to do to you.

without having to think about it, his feet led him to your office and knocked on your door loudly.

your sweet voice called out “come in” and he barged into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“john, what’s wrong i thought you went-”

“strip.”

his words took you off guard and you gave him a confused look by squinting your eyes and furrowing your brows.

“what are you talking about-”

he interrupted you again

“i said strip. do it before i make you.”

you closed your laptop and began unbuttoning your blouse, fingers nervously shaking in anticipation of what was to come. you shrugged the blouse off and threw it across the room while john hummed in approval.

“turn around and take the skirt off.”

his arms were crossed and his gaze was intensely fixed on you. you turned slowly and john got a good look at your ass in that tight pencil skirt you were wearing. you unzipped the skirt and threw it onto the pile before you hastily took off your heels. you were left in your bra and panties, a wired t-shirt bra and your cotton underwear.

you turned back around and john advanced on you by grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hot kiss. his teeth clashed against yours and his tongue fought its way into your mouth while your hands held his face.

his hands lingered on your body and palmed your breasts through your bra. john pushed you up against him and you could feel his throbbing erection through his jeans, making you moan softly.

“gonna show them all who you belong to.” john’s words came out in a growling voice and before you could respond, he picked you up and placed you on your desk. his lips traveled from your mouth to your jawline and eventually falling to your neck. he left dark marks with his lips and teeth, effectively claiming you with his marks.

between moans you huffed out in protest, “john- people will see them.” your hands moved to push him away, but he persisted.

“let them see. let them know who gets to please you like this.”

you’ve never seen john so possessive, he’s always been cautious with your meetings, too scared to have everyone know of your secret. the hanging threat of the consequences always loomed over his head, but now it seemed like the captain had nothing to lose.

his words went straight to your core, soaking your panties with arousal. john reached his hands behind your back and freed you from your bra. his eyes immediately glued onto your tits as your nipples hardened from the sudden cold air.

greedy hands groped your breasts while john’s lips wrapped around the bud of your nipple and sucked hard. your fingers ran through his short hair and gripped hard when his teeth grazed against you.

he moved his mouth to the other breast, repeating his actions. his hand slid down your stomach and into your soiled panties. you could feel him smile against you when his fingers ran across your wet slit.

“so wet for me, love. you been thinkin’ about this all day?”

it was like he could read your mind. ever since you woke, dirty thoughts of john and his cock filled your head. your thighs squeezed together with every word he spoke.

“yeah.. been needy all day for you.”

he took his mouth off of your breast and gave you a soft kiss. “i know, love. i’m gonna take care of it, f’you.”

his hands moved to rid you of your panties, leaving you completely naked on your desk. john’s lips left a wet trail of kisses down your body, landing on the hood of your pussy. soft blue eyes started into yours as john sank to his knees in front of you.

john took hold of your thighs and left small pecks on the inside of them. he teased you relentlessly, making you ache inside. you needed his mouth and whined out to let him know.

“if you want something, you have to ask.” he mumbled out against the plush of your thighs.

you whimpered out, but to no avail. john’s eyes stared into you and you had no choice but to beg.

“please eat my pussy! i need to feel your mouth on me, john.”

“that’s better.”

his mouth latched onto your sex and began to lap at your inner folds. it was messy and wet the way his tongue ran along your cunt and slobbered on your clit. you muffled your moans with your hands and arched your back, trying so hard to get even closer to him.

you ground your hips into him and held his hair with your fingers. his lips latched around your clit and sucked hard. john began to palm his length through his jeans, making him moan against your core. the vibrations against you only made your peak come faster.

his beard stung against your thighs, only adding to your pleasure. you were sure that tomorrow it’d hurt like a bitch, but right now it was fucking divine.

“taste so fucking good, love.” john’s middle and ring finger slipped inside of you, causing your mouth to let out an involuntary moan. john chuckled and circled your clit with his thumb while thrusting his digits into you.

“go on, baby. let everyone know who you belong to.” in reality there was no one left in the office area. everyone had either gone to their barracks or the dining hall.

you moaned out as his fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot only john could reach. your legs shook and he could tell that you were close.

“you gonna cum for me? gonna wet my fucking fingers with your juices? come on love, let go for me.”

his lips wrapped around your clit once more, sending you over the edge. you moaned out in bliss while your body spasmed. you soaked john’s fingers with your cum as he continued to thrust them into you.

once you came down from your high, john carefully removed his fingers from you and sucked them clean. after which he kissed you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

while his tongue was busy in your mouth, his hands began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. john pulled down his jeans along with his boxers and revealed his achingly hard length. it throbbed at the feeling of the air, standing tall at about 7.5 inches.

john pulled his lips from yours and aligned his cock to your entrance. “you ready, dear?” his eyes were filled with gentleness and lust and you could only give him a small nod. his hips slowly thrusted forward inside you, filling you up by the second.

when his hips were flush against yours and he was fully inside you, he kissed you softly. “you feel so fucking good. no one else gets this but me, you understand?” the feeling of his cock inside you was so overwhelming that you could only let out a whiney “mmhm!”

after your response, john began to thrust his cock into you hard. his hands gripped your thighs as pounded into you. his cock was so big that it hit every spot inside you, leaving you a crying mess below him.

your moans were reduced to small ‘ah ah ah’s while john let out grunts and groans from the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. he swears that you’re the tightest pussy he’s ever fucked.

his balls slapped against your ass and the sound of skin on skin filled the room. john pushed your legs back against your chest, getting the deepest angle he could. your tummy bulged with him inside you and john’s eyes focused hard on your abdomen, pressing his hand on the prominent bulge inside you.

“you feel that baby? i’m so fucking deep inside you, love. wonder how your tummy would look if it was full with my kid.”

your eyes shut at the thought of john impregnating you and your cunt squeezed around him, sucking his cock back inside of you.

“you like that, hm? like the idea of carrying my baby? gonna tell everyone who’s it is? tell everyone it was me who did this to you?” john’s grip on your waist tightened and his thrusts were harder.

your orgasm began to rise up again, getting closer with every thrust inside you. john’s grunts became full on moans and his thrusts began to stutter. your hands groped your tits and your fingers swirled your nipples, bringing you closer to release.

“come on, love, let’s cum together. i need to empty my balls in this tight little cunt. need to give you my baby, need to breed this wet pussy.”

before john could finish his sentence you were moaning out and cumming on his length. his seed began to spill inside you in long fat ropes of his cum while he let out pornographic groans into the air. you threw your head back and rode out your high as john did for his.

once the both of you were spent, john slowly pulled out of your pussy and pulled your panties back on before putting his own pants on. he sat in your office chair and pulled you into his lap while you were still nude.

he held you against his chest while running his hand up and down your back. you felt complete with him, you found solace in these moments with him.

“i don’t want us to be a secret anymore, love. i can’t take it.”

you lifted your head and stared into his eyes in disbelief. “but what about-?” he shushed you and held you close.

“i’m not worried about that anymore. i want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

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buckactuallys · 10 months

Note

Pia pls, something with "sweater weather" 🥹💛

frida, it's 32°c outside and as far from sweater weather as it could be, but this was very fun to write, thank you 💘

send me a soft prompt

[read on ao3]

Winter in LA isn’t cold by any means, and having grown up in El Paso, Eddie should be used to lower temperatures – but he’s been living in LA for six years now, and clearly he’s become used to LA temperatures instead.

So when he wakes up on a cold December morning and the other side of the bed is cold, he grumbles unhappily as he gets out from under the cozy blanket, and looks for a sweater to put on over his sleepshirt.

He finds one of Buck’s thrown haphazardly over the back of the chair Eddie has in his bedroom, and pulls it over his head. It’s soft and smells like Buck, and Eddie breathes in deep once before going on the search for the man himself.

He finds him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter holding a cup of coffee and reading a book. His back is halfway turned, so Eddie gets a good look at the bold letters spelling out DIAZ on the back of the sweater he’s wearing. His stomach does a somersault and he pads into the kitchen, causing Buck to look up from his book.

“Hey,” he smiles, putting down the coffee and lifting his arm so Eddie can tuck himself under it in search of Buck’s warmth.

Once he’s wrapped around Buck completely, his cold nose pressed to Buck’s neck, he mumbles, “Morning.”

Buck presses a kiss to the side of his head. “You okay?”

“I missed you,” Eddie says, and doesn’t even feel ridiculous for it. “The bed was cold without you.”

“Sorry,” Buck says. “Do you want coffee?”

“In a minute.”

Buck lets his book close without putting a bookmark in it and wraps his second arm around Eddie too. He’s barely taller than Eddie, but sometimes Eddie really likes being tucked against his side like this, kept safe from the world. Especially when the world is cold and gray, like today.

“Love you,” he says eventually, lifting his head.

Buck smiles and meets him for a short kiss. “I love you, too. Coffee now?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, reluctantly taking a step back. “Thanks.”

Buck presses the button on the coffeemaker he’s programmed to make Eddie’s coffee (perfectly, unfortunately, which is why Eddie hasn’t thrown it out yet), and turns back to look at him again, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“You look good in my clothes,” he says, and Eddie shimmies his shoulders a little to make him laugh. It’s true he’s wearing a pair of Buck’s sweatpants too, which he forgot when he grabbed the sweater, but it’s not like they don’t share clothes all the time.

They sit at the kitchen table with their coffees, feet tangled under it, and start planning their day.

Breakfast in a bit, once Christopher is up, then laundry, grocery shopping and maybe some Christmas shopping, evening plans to be determined once they know if Christopher’s got any or if he’ll be spending it at home with them.

Buck gets up to look in the fridge and start writing their grocery list, and Eddie watches him, the same somersault feeling in his stomach as earlier.

“You look good in my clothes too,” he says, and Buck looks at him over his shoulder from where he’s half sticking his head inside the fridge. “You look good in my everything.”

Buck’s smile goes a little confused. “I– thank you?”

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh. “I just mean– you look good in all of my things. My clothes, my kitchen, my bed, my house. My life.”

Buck closes the fridge door and turns around to face him fully, eyes soft. “Eddie–”

“I love you,” Eddie barrels on, “and I want you here with me all the time. You should move in with us.”

“Yes,” Buck breathes, and he’s crossed the kitchen within a second, cupping Eddie’s face between his hands and sliding onto his lap. “Yes.”

Eddie has half a mind to worry about the chair – or maybe a quarter, because the biggest part of his brain is focused on Buck in his lap.

“Yeah?” he asks, hands running up Buck’s thighs on either side of him to settle at his hips.

“Of course,” Buck says, and he’s smiling so wide his eyes are almost disappearing. “I hate leaving here.”

“And I hate when you leave, and I know Christopher does too.”

Not that Buck leaves much, these days. Honestly, this is more of a formality at this point, but Eddie really does hate whenever Buck goes to the loft instead of coming home with him, so he can’t wait to be rid of the thing.

“We can throw out your bed and move mine here instead,” Buck suggests, and Eddie glowers at him playfully.

“What’s wrong with my bed?”

“Come on now, you know mine is more comfortable. And bigger.”

Eddie, who spent a lot of time in Buck’s bed especially in the early days of their relationship, when Buck still felt awkward knowing Christopher slept just down the hall, does know that.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I guess we can keep your bed.”

“Make it our bed,” Buck says, and Eddie wants to make fun of him for being a sap, but he’s pretty sure his face is showing exactly how much he likes it.

“Sap,” he says anyway, and Buck’s hands that have migrated to Eddie’s shoulders, move back up to his face.

“You love it,” he grins. “And you’re just as much of a sap, Mr “You look good in my life”.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says happily. “You’re moving in with me anyway.”

“I am,” Buck crows. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Good,” Eddie says, and tilts his head up.

Buck gets the hint and bends down to kiss him, softly at first and then deeper when Eddie opens his mouth and pulls him closer by the hips. He runs a hand up Buck’s back and feels the letters on his sweater under his fingertips.

He never wants to get rid of Buck, no. He’s gonna marry this man.

#buddie #911fic #911 #buddie fic #pia writes #ask #leothil #frida tag

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

drip - touya todoroki/f!reader (2.4k) follow up to thaw, touya's first love series (title will change lmao), unrequited love, implied angst (nothing explicit), shoto/reader, pining, mentions of mental health + addiction treatment, misadventures in amateur plumbing.

"Your mom told me you finally found a place!"

Touya pauses as he stirs his cup of coffee (three sugars, no milk) at the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," he grunts, tapping the spoon against the brim of the mug to shake off the few drops that still cling to it. The sound the metal makes as it raps against the brim is nice, a little ding! ding! ding! ringing through the quiet kitchen of Rei’s home.

Touya’s been living at his mother’s house since he got out of treatment a more than a year prior. You don’t know much about Touya’s stay at the treatment facility, just that it was long, located at a bougie complex a few hours outside of the city, and that Enji was the one to foot the bill.

Penance, if nothing else, in the form of financial restitution.

“Are you gonna miss it here?” you ask, fiddling with the sleeve of your top as you sit at the kitchen table.

Touya snorts into the brim of his cup of coffee.

“I’m twenty-eight and living with my mother.”

“The loveliest mother in the world,” you remind him pointedly.

Touya takes a long sip of his drink, but doesn’t disagree.

It’s quiet for a moment, Touya sipping his very sweet coffee and you plucking at the loose string on your cuff.

“I’ll miss the garden,” he finally says, his eyes fixed on the carefully landscaped greenery outside the kitchen window.

It’s Rei’s passion, tending to it. She cares for it enormously, and is always out there working away at it whenever the weather allows, planning for the planting season when the ground is too cold to till. The garden is as much a piece of her as any of her children, the life she fosters there as precious to her as her own, and you know that even without Touya saying it, his admission is his own way of saying that he’ll be missing her when he’s gone.

“Will you need help moving in?” you ask, the loose thread finally snapping off from your top, pinched between your forefinger and thumb.

Touya turns to look at you then, setting his mug down on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t really think that’ll be necessary.”

Three weeks later you’re in a little flat, setting down a heavy box marked ‘CDs and shit’ on the only open patch of floor within sight.

“That’s the last one,” Natsuo says as he files into the apartment behind you, and Touya’s head pops out from the adjoining kitchen to survey the scene.

“Oh, great. Thanks.”

Shoto turns the corner from the bathroom. “I think your hot water tap is leaking.”

“Good sign for day one in the new place,” Natsuo snorts.

Touya rolls his eyes.

“Did you carry that one by yourself? It was heavy,” Shoto says to you, eying the box by your feet.

“I’m very strong,” you say proudly, flexing your muscles jokingly.

Shoto’s lip ticks up a little at the corner.

“Of course,” he agrees with a nod, reaching up and squeezing your (practically non-existent) muscle.

“Touya, do you want our help unpacking or were you just using us for our braun?” you laugh, turning towards the eldest Todoroki son still hovering in the doorway to the apartment’s tiny kitchen.

“Nah, Fuyumi and Mom said they’d come by later this week to help, but I’ll probably have it done by then,” he shakes his head.

“Dude you’ve got like a million boxes and the worlds tiniest apartment, where are you even gonna put all this shit?” Natsuo pipes up, ruffling the hair at his nape as he surveys the cluttered, one-room apartment.

“I’ll figure it out,” his older brother shrugs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Well, if you’re not making us help you unpack, should we eat? I’m starving!” Natsuo groans, clutching his stomach dramatically.

“You’re always starving,” Shoto supplies flatly, and his older brother pouts.

“I worked up an appetite doing all the heavy lifting while you weaklings wasted time out there!”

“Hey, that’s rude,” Shoto counters, and he juts his thumb over to you, “she’s very strong.”

You laugh, leaning against your boyfriend’s arm. You stick your tongue out at the middle son jokingly, and he feigns offence.

“I’ll buy us dinner,” Touya says, fishing his wallet out from his pocket. He pulls out a few bills from the creased, tattered leather. “You guys go pick something up, get some beer or something too.”

Natsuo swipes the bills eagerly from his big brother’s hand.

“Sho, you’ll drive?” Natsuo calls back over his shoulder, already heading for the door.

Touya ducks wordlessly back into the kitchen to keep unpacking.

Shoto turns to you when he notices you’re making no move to leave. He tilts his head curiously as he peers down at you.

“You guys go,” you say, brushing your hand down his arm gently. “I’ll stay and help clear a spot for us to eat.”

“Okay,” he agrees quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for a moment before pressing another to your nose, then your cheek, and finally your lips.

When he pulls away your eyes flutter open, though your unsure when exactly you’d closed them. You feel your heartbeat in your ears as his face comes back into focus, as handsome as they day you’d met him and equally as dizzying.

“Be good,” he says, patting you lightly on the bum. You shove him playfully, and he makes a big show of stumbling away. “So strong,” he quips, that same little smile on his lips as earlier, heading towards the door.

Once the door to Touya’s new apartment swings shut behind Shoto, you look around the room to come to terms with the task ahead of you. There are boxes everywhere in varying shapes and sizes, but you figure that if you unpack the CDs and the DVD’s onto the little entertainment console in the corner and push the rest of the boxes against one wall, there should be at least enough space for the four of you to sit on the floor and eat whatever the boys bring back.

You sigh, pushing the box marked ‘CDs and shit’ towards the other side of the room with your foot.

Touya shuffles into the living room some time later, the box now half unpacked, and jumps a little when he sees you sitting on the floor in the corner with CDs in your hands.

“Fuck!” he exclaims with a fright, clutching at his chest.

You blink at him curiously from the floor.

“I thought you went with them to get food!” he explains, sounding vaguely annoyed but looking rather embarrassed, gesticulating with the free hand not clutching the small toolkit at his side.

“No, I thought I’d stay back and help clear up enough space to eat,” you reply, eying the little kit in his hands. “What’s that for?”

Touya follow’s your gaze to the tools.

“Shoto mentioned a leaky tap. I was gonna go check it out.”

“Need a hand?”

You hold the flashlight while Touya angles his body into the cabinet under the bathroom sink to get a better look at the issue.

“Is this okay?” you ask quietly, knees aching as they press against the cold tile floor.

Touya grunts affirmatively. “’S good.”

You try to keep your hands steady as you point the light into the cabinet, uncertain if you’re even doing much to help at all.

“Hey,” Touya’s disembodied voice calls from inside the cabinet, “can you pass me the slip-joint pliers?”

You glance down at the open tool kit on the floor, on the other side of Touya’s narrow waist. He’s down on his back, half his body crammed into the rickety old vanity to access the problematic pipes and valves. His t-shirt has rucked up over his tummy, exposing a little stretch of scarred flesh on his lower abdomen.

“Um, Touya…”

Touya’s curious face peeks out from under the sink, his brow furrowed.

You grimace.

“…What are slip-joint pliers?”

He snorts a little, slipping back out of sight.

“They look kinda like a lobster claw,” Touya’s hand reaches up and imitates pincers and you stifle a laugh, rifling through the toolkit for something similar.

You hand him what you think is correct, but he immediately hands them back to you.

“Those are linesman pliers. Slip-joints are on more of an angle.”

“How do you even know this stuff?” you mutter, digging through the toolkit again.

“I dunno,” Touya replies, accepting the second tool you hand him (obviously the correct one this time, considering he doesn’t hand them back), “just… learned it, I guess. Just knowledge I picked up over the years, or whatever.”

You hold the flashlight up, still kneeling at his side. He grunts a bit, wiggling this way and that under the cabinet, vague clinking and clanking that you can’t name the cause of happening out of sight.

“Can you try that tap now?”

You rise to your feet as Touya slips out from under the sink, and you reach up to turn the tap. A sudden violent spray of hot water erupts from underneath the tap (not the faucet) spraying you directly in the face.

“Oh, shit!” you shriek in surprise, your hands reaching up to shield your face out of sheer instinct.

“Oh, fucking— fuck!” Touya scrambles to his feet, trying to protect you from the spray of water with his own body, reaching for the tap and wrenching it closed.

It snaps off in his hand.

“Oh! Mother fuckin—shit!”

You’re still screaming, and now Touya is too. He drops to his knees on the floor, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and wrenching you down with him away from the splash zone. He reaches under the sink and turns the lever to shut off the hot water supply, and the two of you are left soaking wet on the bathroom floor with your chests heaving as you pant.

He blinks at you, his white hair matted down to his forehead with water, his eyes wide in surprise.

A moment passes and all you can hear is the drip of the tap above you both.

And then you start to laugh.

Uncontrollably.

“That… was so… ha ha hahaha—”

“Are you okay?” Touya asks, his hands on your shoulder as he tries to get a good look at you, but even you can hear the laughter seeping into his voice.

You have tears pricking your eyes—what’s a bit more water, after all?—and you’re clutching at your chest from how hard you’re giggling.

“I guess you didn’t pick up as much knowledge as you thought you did,” you tease as your laughter finally peters out.

Touya hides a little smile behind his fist, looking away as his nose scrunches up.

“Guess not.”

Touya digs you out a sweatshirt from a box labelled “pots and pans” and you hide in the kitchen to change into it while he sops up the water all over the bathroom floor with some rags. Your t-shirt is soaked as you peel it off your body, and once you’ve pulled the soft material of Touya’s sweatshirt on you wring your t-shirt out in the kitchen sink to try and help it dry a little quicker.

“There’s a laundry room a few floors down, if you give me your top I can—“ Touya appears in the doorway, freezing when he sees you brushing your wet hair back from your face.

“That’s alright,” you decline the offer, “I’ll just put it over the radiator for now, and if it’s still a bit wet by the time I head home that’s not the end of the world.”

Touya nods, looking away.

He’s also changed out of his wet clothes, though you’re not sure when. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that hangs away from his frame, just a little too baggy to be considered fitted, but still too small to be considered oversized. He has the general appearance of someone who’s lost some weight. You wonder if maybe those clothes are from when he was younger. Before the things that ended up sending him to treatment.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, his cheeks growing a little rosy in the harsh fluorescent lighting. “I… don’t even know how I fucked that up so badly.”

You smile, shuffling towards the radiator on the other side of the room. You pat Touya on the shoulder as you pass.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, meaning it. You lay your t-shirt out across the warmth of the heating unit, glancing at the eldest Todoroki from across the room. “Next time I’ll just bring an umbrella.”

Touya’s lips purse, but the expression curls a little at the corner of his mouth in mirth.

“I sprayed water in your face, and you’re still willing to help with a next time?”

You shrug, returning to your place in the corner where you’d been sorting CDs before your impromptu shower. “How else am I gonna learn about all those different tools?”

Touya laughs, really laughs, at that comment.

“Wanna come help me organize these?” you ask, holding up a handful of CDs. “We can probably get this box cleared before your brothers get back.”

Touya nods, shuffling over and taking a seat beside you on the ground.

“You’ve got terrible taste in music, by the way,” you remark.

Touya rolls his eyes, elbowing you gently in the side as he leans forward and grabs a handful of CDs from inside the box.

“I’ve had some of these since I was a kid,” he grumbles in response to your jibe.

“Didn’t this come out like a year ago?” you question him, holding up a terrible pop-album that can’t be explained away by adolescent tastes.

Touya snatches it out of your hand, shoving it gracelessly onto the shelf.

“Less talking, more unpacking.”

You smile a little to yourself, and keep sorting.

#touya x reader #touya x you #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #bnha writing #bnha drabble #writing

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