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mypoisonedvine · 8 months

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Ok 1 I love your Halloween theme, and 2 can I request a delightfully unhinged threesome between estranged twins, jackson and Dr. Crane 👀

oh my i wonder who could've given you such a ridiculously thirsty idea!!! definitely wasn't me ummm anyways this turned out to be another full length fic, so. yeah.

𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎 | jonathan crane x reader x jackson rippner

length: 3.6k

warnings: NONCON SMUT (dark as fuck, 18+ only, read the warnings), kidnapping, implied stalking, yandere!jonathan, threesome with oral m receiving and breeding kink, housewife kink, slight corruption kink, possibly inexperienced jonathan??

It was eerie, seeing his twin on the other side of the doorway; it wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror, but it was closer than anything else was.

The differences were obvious, and had only become stronger over time: the hair, the glasses, even the way they dressed. But the biggest difference between the brothers was their smiles… in fact, Jackson was wearing that tilted, toothy grin already. “Well, look at you,” he greeted smugly, “Doctor Crane.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d really come,” Jonathan admitted quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever call me again,” Jackson laughed as he stepped inside, despite never actually having been invited in. “Nice place, Doc— guess they pay you pretty good at the looney bin.”

“We, uh, try not to use that term,” Jonathan mumbled as he watched Jackson roam the apartment, getting a little nervous that he might break one of the more expensive decorations or artifacts.

“So, what’s this problem you needed my help with?” Jackson wondered as he spun on his heel to face his brother. “Must be a pretty sticky situation you’ve got yourself in if you have to ring up your big brother.”

“You’re only four—"

“Four minutes older, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, “but somebody had to be first.”

“I need… advice,” Jonathan finally answered, “regarding a sort of… sensitive situation.”

“You can spare the foreplay, Jonny, this isn’t my first time,” Jackson smirked. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Nothing… happened, really,” he sighed, “I just… there’s someone that needs to be… dealt with.”

“If you want a hit, I don’t actually do that,” Jackson explained, “but I can call somebody for you—“

“Not a hit, no,” Jonathan shook his head, “the opposite, really… I need her kept alive.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Oh? A ladyfriend you want protected?”

“Uh, sure,” Jonathan mumbled awkwardly, “but I’ll take care of that. It’s her, um, footprint, if you will. Her old identity, and all that— I need her to disappear, so to speak. W-well, she already disappeared… I just need people to stop looking for her.”

“You know, you’re always full of surprises, Jonny,” Jackson laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have this woman in your basement.”

“I don’t have a basement,” Jackson replied.

“That’s… not the part I was expecting you to deny…”

Soon enough, Jonathan escorted Jackson to his bedroom, where you were tied to one of the bedposts by your wrists, curled up in a shaking little ball, watching with wide eyes as the two men entered the room. Jackson realized you probably hadn't seen anyone other than Jonathan since getting here-- that, or you were just thinking oh fuck, there's two of them?!

“Why’d you dress her up like that?” Jackson snorted, admiring the vintage-style dress and heels, with a matching set of pearl earrings and necklace. “I didn’t know you were so… traditional.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting a bit pink. “Can we just focus on the present issue, please?”

"And what a lovely issue it is," Jackson cooed as he stepped closer to you, admiring you with a tilted head.

You watched him approach with wide eyes, finally speaking in a broken whisper. “Please,” you choked out, “help me— he’s keeping me here, I think he’s gonna kill me—“

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Jackson smiled, “he’s real sweet on you. I’d just be worried about whatever freaky shit he’s into.”

“Well, as you can see, she’s not adjusting very well,” Jonathan sighed. “I thought my drugs would help— and she’s pretty obedient when she’s been given a large dose, so I was sort of right— but I can’t keep her high all day, she’ll build a tolerance. And I know her case is going to get a little too much attention, if there isn’t some kind of closure for the police or the family sometime soon. I mean, a beautiful, promising young medical student? Gone without a trace? It’s cable news catnip.”

“You’re right about that,” Jackson agreed. “There’s a pretty face perfect for the papers.”

As Jackson reached to tilt your chin, petting the line of your jaw, Jonathan slapped his hand away. “Hey, hands to yourself,” Crane warned, “she’s mine.”

“Okay, Mr. Defensive,” Jackson widened his eyes, raising his hands like he was perfectly innocent. “How sloppy were you? Are they gonna find any evidence that brings them here?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan sighed, “but you can’t be too sure. Even without evidence, she took one of my classes, so if they get desperate enough they can certainly trace her to me.”

Jackson sighed. “That’s tricky,” he nodded. “And it gives us two options.”

“Which are?”

“The happy ending, and the sad ending,” Jackson explained. “Happy ending: I get one of my little computer nerd friends to fake a plane ticket to somewhere exotic. Send a postcard to a friend. Just like that, she’s absconded from her old life, escaped the pressure of med school, and everyone thinks she’s off somewhere getting her groove back or whatever.”

“And the sad ending?”

“Bloody clothing planted by the woods, with a tip that somebody saw her hiking,” he shrugged. “Big bad wolf got to her. Simple as that. That one’s handy because no one’s gonna expect her to come back… and you can have her all to yourself, forever.”

Jonathan bit his lip, obviously excited by the idea. “I'm guessing that will require taking a sample from her?"

"Not too much," Jackson promised, "you're a doctor, you can do it safely."

"She's scared enough of me as it is," Jonathan sighed. "I thought she would... take to it a little faster."

"What, you thought she would like getting kidnapped?"

"I thought she would appreciate how well I can take care of her," Jonathan clarified.

"Oh, Jonny," Jackson laughed, "you haven't learned a thing about women since the last time I saw you, huh?"

Jonathan didn't even have the heart to deny it.

"When they ask if they look fat in something-- you just say no, don't even look, okay? It's like DARE: Just. Say. No." Jackson informed his brother sternly. "And when they say they're not hungry and don't want anything, just order some fries anyway or she's gonna end up with half your entrée. And most of all-- you can't forget this one-- they really dislike being kidnapped and held in captivity."

Jonathan crossed his arms. "I knew that," he announced defensively.

"Let me ask you this," Jackson began with a twinkle in his eye. "Have you used her yet?"

Jonathan shuddered a little, looking embarrassed as he looked at you and then to the floor. "J-just once..." he admitted. "That was... a lapse in restraint. I had wanted to wait until she was more comfortable, but..."

"But you just couldn't help yourself with a sweet little thing like this in your bed, huh?" Jackson finished. "I get it. And she looks cute when she's scared."

You shuddered under Jackson's hungry stare, and he winked at you. "So, you'll take care of it?" Jonathan reminded him. "Happy ending or sad ending, whatever you think is best."

"Well, I'm always a fan of a happy ending," Jackson smirked. "You know speaking of: I figure I can give you a good deal on this whole thing... you know, since you're family."

"Alright," Jonathan nodded.

“I’ll make sure her case is closed… if you let me take her for a spin.”

It seemed to take Jonathan a moment to realize what that meant, before he laughed incredulously. “No,” he asserted, “absolutely not.”

“Oh, don’t be so insecure,” Jackson pouted, “she’ll still be yours when I’m done with her. You can keep her for the rest of your life— I’m just asking for one night.”

"I can pay you very well for your time, Jackson," Jonathan promised.

"Eh, money's boring," Jackson shrugged.

"If I recall correctly, women tend to bore you pretty easily as well," Jonathan accused with a frown.

"Sheesh, you kidnap one woman and you start getting all judgmental that I haven't settled down," Jackson rolled his eyes. "I don't have a lot of time for anything serious, that's all. In fact, I barely have time for anything these days. That's why I figure I can help you break in Mrs. Crane over there."

"I don't need any help," Jonathan promised.

"Except for the part where, if I don't help you, you're probably gonna get caught with a missing woman tied to your bed," Jackson reminded him.

Jonathan sighed, clearly realizing the choice he had to make.

“C'mon, just a little favor for your favorite twin brother? You can stay and make sure I don’t do anything you wouldn’t… approve of,” Jackson rolled his eyes, “you prude.”

"She's innocent," Jonathan breathed, "that's what I liked about her-- it's why I had to bring her here. You'll... you'll ruin her. I can't let you do that."

“Seems like you don’t really have a choice,” Jackson noticed, lowering his voice and leaning in closer to Jonathan.

There was a pause, and finally Jackson turned to leave the room as he patted Jonathan on the back.

"Get a good lawyer, buddy," he offered as his final piece of advice.

But before he could take another step, Jonathan relented with a sigh: “Make it quick.”

“Hey,” Jackson shrugged with a grin as he shed his jacket and tossed it aside, “no promises.”

He all but leapt onto the bed, crawling up to you as you whined and shrunk away.

“Did y’hear that, babydoll? Jonny said it’s my turn to play with you,” he purred.

As you tried to shrink away, he grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down, forcing you onto your back and keeping your tied wrists above your head as the rope when taut.

He growled as he laid on top of you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can make it good for you,” he breathed, “if you behave. It’ll be so much better than whatever my idiot baby brother does to you— promise.”

Jackson's hands crawled up your skirt, and he bit his lip as you kicked your legs in protest.

"Be good, baby," he warned you sharply. "Good girls get a treat... you know what bad girls get?"

You didn't seem that invested in an answer, but he continued anyways as he lowered his voice and spoke by your ear.

"Bad girls get fucked up the ass," he whispered, giving a quick little kiss to the side of your face; suddenly, you relaxed a bit under him and stopped resisting so much. "That's a good girl," he praised, spreading your legs a bit and petting them until he reached higher and found you totally bare under the dress. "Oh my, Jonny didn't even give you panties to wear? Poor baby..."

Jonathan shuddered and crossed his arms, looking away with his head and yet unable to actually look anywhere else but the bed. He was trying to figure out how his brother had gotten you to behave so quickly... when Jonathan had given in to temptation and forced himself on you, it was a constant battle to keep you down as you kicked and screamed and begged him to stop. Whether it was the sight before him now, or the memory of that night, Jonathan felt his cock twitch in his trousers.

Jackson sat up a bit, opening his own pants and sighing as he wrapped his hand around himself. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he purred as he held your legs open wide with his other hand. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together, sweetheart."

He spit straight down onto you, smearing it around your opening with his tip, before pressing right up to your hole. He groaned loudly as he slid inside-- one long, slow stroke as he filled you. You whined and shut your eyes tight, but otherwise resisted the urge to struggle.

"Fuuuuck," Jackson purred, holding on tight to your hips as he simply buried himself inside you for a moment. "So tight, honey, Jesus."

Beginning to move, he laid himself down over you and kissed your neck again, moaning against your skin. You whimpered, back arching slightly under him, and he smiled when he felt you tense up as he thrusted into you just a little harder.

"Oh, baby, feel how deep I am?" he grunted. "Feel how good I'm stretching out that little hole? Fuck, keep squeezin' me like that and maybe I will make this quick..."

He grabbed your hips and yanked them up a bit, holding you right where he wanted you-- and sitting up again, so he could get just the perfect angle as he started fucking into you again. Normally he would build up a little more naturally before being so rough but, well, you weren't going anywhere... he could just use you and chase his own pleasure. That said, he still grinned proudly when you moaned suddenly, your head falling back and your back arching. That was when he decided that, even though he had no real obligation to make you come, he was going to anyways-- if for no other reason than to know that he could take total control of your body, and force you to an orgasm even unwillingly.

"Right there?" he taunted as you whined, giving you fast and hard thrusts right into the place that made you bite down on your lip. "Yeah, that's it-- you're getting so wet, honey, you feel that? Gonna soak my fucking cock, aren't you?"

He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, letting himself bask in the feeling for a moment. You made little sounds, obviously trying to hold yourself back, but the longer it went on the less you were able to fight it-- soon you were properly moaning, arching your back deeper, your walls clenching on him rhythmically as you came.

"Fuck, just like that," Jackson praised as he watched you give into it. "Just like that, baby, fucking cream all over me-- good girl."

Jonathan watched in astonishment as you quivered all over, nervously clearing his throat as he tried to conceal the throbbing erection in his pants-- and it seemed to remind Jackson that his brother was still standing nearby.

"What was that about your girl being innocent, Crane?" Jackson laughed. "'Cause she seems like a desperate fucking whore to me."

“H-how’d you make her do that?” Jonathan asked with a shaky whisper, licking his lips a bit as he watched you writhe against the mattress.

“Nothing to it, really,” Jackson smiled, “just gotta find that spot and beat the hell out of it. Here, I’ll show you.”

You whimpered as Jackson pulled out and slid his fingers inside you, curling them against the place that had become more sensitive than ever.

“Right here,” he explained, “you try it.”

He took his fingers out as Jonathan approached the bed— and you felt Jonathan’s fingers slide in a second later, a bit more hesitance to his movements. He let out a wavering sigh, and Jackson smiled.

“Feel the swollen part? Rub her there— hard.”

He curled his fingers slightly and you bit your lip.

“Harder,” Jackson instructed.

“I-I don’t want to hurt her…”

“Well, she needs it rough,” Jackson laughed, “so man up and make her come!”

You yelped when Jonathan harshly pressed into the spot, making your whole body shake as he started to thrust the digits in and out of you. “Wow,” Jonathan breathed as he watched you, his brother smiling proudly next to him.

"She can probably come again pretty fast," Jackson assumed, "you should try. See how fast you can make her scream again."

Jackson, meanwhile, moved to kneel by your head, slapping your face a little to cue you to open your mouth. He groaned as he rubbed his tip over your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself alongside his salty precum.

You unintentionally clench on Jonathan's fingers, and he smiled wide. "Like that?" he asked eagerly. "Are you gonna come again?"

"Just keep doing it," Jackson urged his brother before speaking to you again. "C'mon baby, you can take a little more."

Holding your hair, Jackson started to fuck your mouth a bit more earnestly, making Jonathan frown at him after you gagged a few times. "Be careful," he warned him, "don't hurt her."

"I know, I know," Jackson rolled his eyes. "But look at that mouth, Crane, don't you think it's just made to take cock?"

Jonathan couldn't exactly disagree, he'd fantasized about your mouth plenty of times. But now, he was much more focused on your pussy-- he was watching it closely, enraptured by the way his fingers moved in and out of it... and the way it responded, gripping him tighter and tighter.

"Go on, suck it," Jackson ordered you impatiently, smacking you on the cheek again to try to encourage you. You whimpered and hollowed your cheeks, blinking up at him as he grinned down at you. "Oh, pretty eyes-- I can tell why Jonny couldn't resist you..."

You moaned again, and Jackson raised an eyebrow as he looked down for a moment at what Jonathan was doing-- which was moving his fingers faster inside you, watching you whimper and writhe as you reached the edge again.

"Show me," Jonathan begged, "come for me-- come on my fingers."

It happened pretty quickly, and Jackson let you take a break from sucking him for a second so they could both enjoy your pretty moans as you creamed around Jonathan's fingers.

"O-oh, fuck," Jonathan gasped, "I can feel her... pulsing."

"Yeah," Jackson grinned, "really something, isn't it?"

"Fuck," Jonathan said again, taking his fingers out and suddenly climbing onto the bed. "Need to feel that on my cock."

"Atta boy," Jackson praised with a laugh.

Jonathan moaned loudly as he pushed inside you, your own reaction a muffled groan around Jackson's cock which he shoved between your lips again. "Oh, god," Jonathan whined, "you feel even better than I remember, angel-- fuck, I missed you so much."

He was even more desperate and impatient than before, fucking you quickly and eagerly even though you were far too sensitive for it after coming twice in a row.

Jackson pulled back out of your mouth, but held your head steady as he stroked himself rapidly. “Gonna coat that pretty face,” he growled, “keep your mouth open, baby, I’m close…”

You whimpered and tried to keep your throat shut, afraid to choke on his come while laying back like this, and after a few more moments he groaned loudly as ropes of come fell over your face and onto your waiting tongue. You grunted a little in surprise but just tried to squint your eyes in case some got too close, but the vast majority went into your mouth or over your cheek.

"Fuck," Jackson purred, milking his cock for every drop before finally taking his hand away and sinking back, looking down at you with a new redness and sheen of sweat to his face. "Good girl. You can swallow now baby-- oh, wait, let's make sure you get it all first."

He swiped up the come on your cheek with his thumb, feeding it to you as you closed your lips and swallowed his salty spend.

"I told you good girls get a treat," he grinned.

Jonathan, meanwhile, was panting and whimpering and clearly trying to hold himself back-- but the way he held you tight enough to bruise gave away how close to the edge he really was. "I can't wait," he finally admitted with a groan. "I need to come, angel-- I need to come inside, get you pregnant. Then we can be happy together."

Suddenly, he started to rub your sore clit with his thumb; and you jolted again, pulsing around him as he sighed and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, beautiful-- just like that, let me feel you come again, please. Then I can fill you so deep..."

"You can make her come one more time," Jackson assured, "she's so sensitive-- go on and come for him, baby, let him feel how hard you come..."

Though Jonathan was a little irritated by the way Jackson made it seem like a favor you were doing on his behalf, he couldn't complain when he felt you coming around him, slick walls pulsing so perfectly around him that he had to come with a loud, broken moan. He kept moving until he was sure he'd given you everything, heart racing as he imagined and hoped that he'd properly bred you this time.

Then, there was a silence. Not very long, but plenty nervous as the three of you caught your breath.

"Well... mazel tov," Jackson offered with an awkward laugh, getting up off the bed and getting himself back in order. "I'll call you when it's all taken care of, Jonny. You, uh... you have fun with her, alright? Call if you need anything or, you know... feel like sharing again..."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that, Jackson," Jonathan sighed.

"Don't miss me too much, honey," Jackson winked at you as he slipped his jacket back on. "But feel free to think about me so you can get off while this guy's fucking you," he joked, motioning to his brother with a tilt of his head.

"Don't listen to him, angel," Jonathan cooed at you as Jackson finally left the room. You shivered a little as he trailed kisses all over your face and neck, holding you a little tighter. "You're all mine-- you finally know that now, don't you?

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner dark smut #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane dark smut

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months

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Cw: a little suggestive so maybe 18+only, I’m just kinda playing around to figure out his voice ygm?

Dick Grayson who’s the world’s biggest flirt and doesn’t mind one bit that you’re the feistiest thing he’s ever come across.

“You know, I could always help you spar, get your hand eye coordination up to my levels,” he’s still the dorky gymnast kid he’s always been- just older and a lot hotter.

You’d been in the league with him and went solo when he’d founded the Titans but he still pops up every now and then to tease and get under your skin like he’d done when he’d still been Robin.

“And what level would that be Grayson? Second base?” Your chest is heaving as you stand, body dripping in sweat from your latest sequence.

Dick knows you don’t really need pointers, but how else is he going to make a show of wanting to be around you.

“I’m wounded,” he places his hands on his chest and leans forward, the perfect opening for you to swipe your foot at his legs and have him falling forward.

Instead, the stupid (read:sexy, cocky, egoistic, did you say sexy yet?) man jumps over the anticipated attack and flips you onto your back.

“You wound me, pretty girl.” You roll your eyes and flip you both over, so you’re hovering over him.

“I really might,” he winks at you as you stand and you shake your head. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Dick stands, takes your towel and wipes his face and then leans on the doorframe.

“Came to check in on my girl, that so bad?” You get up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands holding your waist tight as he pulls you closer. “Spend the night with me?” He trails his nose against your jaw, his lips stamping kisses under your neck on the myriad of beauty marks you have that make your knees weak.

“Dick,” you grumble, hands sinking in his hair. “Fine,” you try to keep your voice all gruff and steady but he knows better. He feels the jump in your pulse, his ears are insanely attuned to you so he hears the little hitch in your breath too.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he pulls away with a smug smile and you know you’ve got a hickey somewhere on your neck. “Meet you by the bike in ten?”

“If you think I’m getting on that thing with you Grayson, you haven’t missed me enough.” There’s a poorly hidden smile on your face as you back out of the training room.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. I’ll be by the bike.”

You don’t protest much when you step outside, dressed all pretty with your duffel bag full of clothes and whatever else you might need and find Dick leaning on his car- a midnight blue that puzzles you on how no one figured him out to be Nightwing for so long.

“Such a liar,” he takes your bag from you, chucking it into the trunk as you reach for the door.

“Touch that handle and we’ll have issues,” your hand drops immediately. “Didn’t want you to feel all desperate having to rub up on me the entire ride back to our place.”

The way he says it, our place, warms your heart. You and Dick had the roughest time getting accustomed to each other and now that ease, that familiarity, that willingness to share something so intimate and it be easy- it makes everything you’d both undergone insignificant.

“Yeah b’cause I’m the desperate one between us,” He smiles as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

“Glad you could admit it, gorgeous.” He kisses you then closes the door before you can complain and all you hear is his laugh as he rounds the car to get in.

#dickgrayson #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson blurb #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fic #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson drabble

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ashwhowrites · 7 months

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Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x reader, she goes to a concert of Corroded Coffin and Eddie sees her and he thinks she's cute, they've been in some dates but groupies of Eddie start to talk bad about reader and she's always sad because of that and Eddie decides that he doesn't want to see reader sad so they have a day without their phones so she can be relaxed and Eddie talks about that to his followers and he hates that people talk bad about her girl (idk if modern au would be good for this, but I hope you can write more Older! Eddie fics, we need him! No pressure tho!)

We can definitely make it modern au for the social media part. And I agree, we need older! Eddie. I hope you enjoy this and thank you for requesting <3

Fans

Y/N wasn't the type to go to concerts alone, but one of her favorite bands was playing and none of her friends would go. Her friends weren't into the older bands, but Y/N loved Corroded Coffin for years and now she was old enough to get into the venues. She wasn't going to miss her chance to see them just because no one would go with her.

As she stood in the front row, Eddie Munson right there in front of her eyes, she knew she made the right choice. She couldn't help but feel like he was constantly looking right back at her. His eyes stared at her as she sang along, her eyes switching from his eyes to his lips, to his fingers on the guitar. He was even more hot up close.

Eddie finished the set, his mind still thinking of the girl in the front row. She knew every song, every beat, and she was gorgeous.

"Question, how old do you think the girl in the front was? With the black cropped Eddie's girl shirt, and red lips." Eddie asked, the band in the dressing room as they stripped out of their sweaty clothes.

"No idea, but old enough to get in." Gareth shrugged. Eddie nodded, that was enough for him. He didn't bother to find another shirt, throwing on a zip-up and sweatpants. He threw his hair in a bun and headed back out to the crowd. Girls screaming when they caught him sneaking by. He smiled and winked at a few as he tried to find the girl. Catching the back of her as she headed for the exit.

"HEY! RED LIPS!" He screamed, he hoped his voice would carry over the sound of the screaming girls. But she kept walking, Eddie signed as many things as he could as his eyes stayed on her.

"YO EDDIE'S GIRL IN FRONT ROW!" he tried again, this time she stopped. He could see her head look down at her shirt and then slowly turn around. Eddie softly pushed past the girls, apologizing for walking by, he promised to come back to sign things.

"Me?" She mouthed as he walked closer.

He smirked and nodded, walking faster to reach her. She stood next to the door and looked around. Thousands of girls staring at them. Some older women and some young girls like her.

"Here's my number, use it anyway you want." He winked as he handed her the piece of paper.

~~~

That was four months ago, and they've been on countless dates since. She couldn't understand the concept that she was dating her biggest celebrity crush. She tried to keep herself calm around him, but he made her lose her mind.

She hung out with the band, she sat on the sidelines during practices. It was like her world flipped upside down.

Eddie was exactly as she thought he'd be. He was hyper, funny, and childish at times. He was still young at heart and enjoyed doing the dumb things she did. Age wasn't an issue for them, but it was for the fans.

Y/N knew that dating someone famous would be hard. She was a fan herself, she's read countless tweets about jealous fans and how cruel they could be. She never thought she'd be on the receiving end of it.

The relationship was still fresh, and the fans one by one finding out more about her. Some fans thought she looked good with Eddie, and many loved that she was a real fan before the relationship even began. But once the news got out that Eddie Munson, the heartthrob was dating a younger girl, the world exploded.

Every magazine was fixated on it. It was the hot gossip and the main topic Eddie talked about in interviews. Eddie was never a private person and she didn't expect him to be now either. But she wished her age wasn't a big scandal.

"Eddie Munson's new girlfriend.....read about the hot young twenty-one-year-old now!"

"Eddie Munson shows off new young girlfriend, love or just lust?"

"The lead singer of Corroded Coffin is off the market! But seems to only be looking in the juniors section."

Yeah, some got nasty about it.

She sat on her phone, looking at the comments below Eddie's new post, a selfie of them on the beach.

"He's only with her because she's young."

"Jeez can she be anymore see through? Dating the biggest star in the world at her age? was she even born when his music came out?"

"Probably dropped out of college and needs a quick money grab."

"she's not even that attractive.....I think he's more into her being twenty years younger than him."

"I hope she enjoys this while she can. Not like he's going to settle down and marry her"

"I hope he sees she's just in it for the money."

"I told you to stop reading those," Eddie demanded, snatching the phone out of her hand. He sighed as he turned off her phone, putting it in his back pocket. He crossed his arms as he stood in front of her.

"I'm sorry! It's just that they hate me. These are your fans and I want them to like me." Y/N said, looking up as Eddie gave her the dad look.

"Okay giving me that look doesn't make me feel any better about people making jokes about me being young enough to be your daughter." She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Baby, don't listen to them. They don't know about our relationship, why believe what they have to say?" Eddie said, taking a seat next to her. He grabbed her legs and put them on his lap, his rough hands rubbing her soft skin.

"These are people that love you like I do! I hate to disappoint everyone because I'm not the right age."

"If you spend so much time listening to them, can you listen to me? I don't care what anyone thinks of our relationship. The people that truly love me, like the way you do, will accept and love you. You aren't disappointing anyone and there's nothing wrong with your age. The band loves you! They adore you and support us. They don't look at you and see your age. They see the hot girl that was front row screaming her lungs out in an Eddie Munson girl shirt." He said, his hand stopped on her knee giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I love you and I love the band as well." She said smiling. She moved into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her.

"No phones today. Just me and you." He said, kissing her cheek as she cuddled into him.

"Just me and you." She repeated.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #older eddie munson x reader #rockstar! eddie x reader #ashwhowrites

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 23 days

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There's an anger in me (I think I learned it from you)

hope here needs a humble hand - series masterlist here

pairing: platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic dick grayson x reader

length: 1.9k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

warnings: reader and dick get into a fight and dick is so mean. reader definitely has trauma and issues but Good Dad Bruce Wayne is here so it's fine and also Big Brother Dick in the end

a/n: I'm not a dick grayson hater but I do think he'd be the biggest bitch and say the meanest shit in a fight. anyway life is kicking my ass so bad rn so idk if this is even any GOOD but you can have it <3

Alfred sighs to himself, a disapproving sort of frown finding its way onto his face as he listens to your raised voice, you and Dick butting heads again. It's not uncommon for you to find reason to argue with the others, but it is tiresome - frustrating to him that you can't seem to lay down this constant fight of yours that you live with.

And Dick? Well, as he spits an insult back and you and you shove at his chest, Alfred idly thinks that maybe he's your worst target so far. Dick Grayson may be kind under typical circumstances, but anger like this brings out the worst in him.

"At least Bruce wanted me," he snaps at you. "You just shoved your way in."

That doesn't just stop you, it stops everyone in their tracks. It especially stops Bruce, who had come into the Cave when he'd gotten word from Alfred about another fight. And there's just… silence at first. You, staring up at Dick with wide, hurt eyes while his anger slowly melts, regret replacing it.

"Hey, I didn't mean -" but you don't stay to listen, fleeing past Bruce and out of the Cave, despite his calls of your name. You don't stick around to hear the way Bruce rips into Dick about it, berating him for even suggesting such a thing, before he follows you up to the Manor.

Alone in your room, with the walls closing in on you and your lungs squeezing painfully, your breath catches as you hear footsteps approaching. Bruce's knocks on your door are as gentle as the way he calls your name, asking you to please open the door.

You don't.

How can you? He's right, he's right, he's right - Bruce didn't want you. How much trouble have you caused since you got here? - too much, your brain supplies. And Dick is right, Bruce didn't want you… he couldn't have. You, with your headstrong determination, pushing your way into anything and everything that you'd ever wanted. You, with your heels always dug in and your arms always crossed and your shoulders always squared. How could he possibly want that?

You pace behind your locked door, pulling on your hair as your breath quickens, words you've heard a million times running through your head.

Spoiled, selfish, stubborn -

Bruce's voice on the other side of the door isn't enough to drown it out, his promises of, "I love you, we all love you. Dick didn't mean that, and he'll apologize to you when you're ready. Please come out, sweetheart… I love you, and you have always been wanted by me. You've always been wanted by this family."

You stare at the door as if glaring hard enough would make it soundproof, your breath still coming out in short little gasps as you clench your fists, nails digging into the skin of your palms. You watch through blurred vision as Bruce's shadow shifts and darkens under the door - you watch as he settles on the other side of the wood, determined not to leave you to do this alone.

"You come out whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he says gently. "I'll be here."

You scoff, turning abruptly away from the door - away from him. He won't stay - he won't, he won't, he won't -

"I won't leave you." Bruce's voice is heard again and you squeeze your eyes shut. It's like he knows, and you can't figure out how, can't fathom the idea that he really has been paying attention all this time, that he knows you and your ticks and your traumas. You curl up on top of your bed, determined to just shut down until it's all over - until he gives up and leaves you be. Maybe then you can leave, too - leave for real. Maybe it would all be better if you slipped out quietly, off into the city, into someone else life and away from this one. Maybe there really wasn't room for you in this family.

When you wake later, the first thing you're forced to notice is the throbbing behind your eyes and the light that streams in through the window, the sun beginning to set and bathing you in a halo-like glow. Sitting up, you notice a shadow still stationed on the other side of your door, having stayed, unmoving, for as long as you'd been hiding.

Getting up slowly, you make your way to it, sitting down with your back against the door and letting your head thump rather loudly against the wood of it. It's only then that Bruce moves, shifting on the other side. You clench your fists on your lap as words get caught on their way out. I'm sorry, I love you, thank you for staying.

"Why are you still there?" Is all that ends up coming out, the words harsh as they cut through the air. You flinch at hearing them, your own voice hatefully foreign to you.

"Because I love you," Bruce says simply, like it's such an easy thing. "And I promised I wouldn't leave you." You sit still after that, turning what he's said over in your mind again and again and again before standing abruptly and wrenching your door open, relying on Bruce's reflexes to get himself up and standing by the time you do.

Fortunately, he's always been a little faster than you, always a little better. By the time you're looking at him, he's standing in your doorway, his shoulders slumped as he slouches down to look you in the eye. He's making himself smaller, you realize, something that feels like regret eating away at you. He's making himself small and it's your fault.

But Bruce isn't looking at you like he blames you, and the way he ever so gently puts his hands on your shoulders and presses a kiss to the crown of your head speaks only of love. Only of forgiveness. You stand straighter when he does, a silent urge for him to do this same - for him to be tall for you. Maybe then, you wouldn't have to be.

"It's true, though, isn't it? You ask, something pained in your voice that you can't quite hide.

"It's not." There's a way he says it, like it's written in some holy text somewhere and he's promising it now because faith demands it. "You are always wanted here. And you always will be."

"What if I never believe that?"

"Then we'll keep telling you." You shoot Bruce a look at his assuredness, one that just makes him smile down at you.

"Even Dick?" You ask, uneasiness finding its home in you despite your clenched fists and set jaw.

"Especially Dick, he answers easily. "I'm sure he'll spend a very long time trying to make up for this. He never means it, you know - there's this anger in him that he can't quite shake sometimes." Your shoulders slump at his words and you drop your chin, eyes trained on the floor.

"Yea," your voice is bitter. "That, I understand."

You find, later that night, that you wish Dick didn't care quite so much. Your mask covers your face, the hard set of your jaw and the annoyance that pulls down your brows, but in the faint moonlight of the docks, you're sure Dick can see the taught pull of your shoulders.

Thank god it's a slow night, you find yourself thinking as you perch on the edge of a rooftop, kicking your legs over the edge. You know he's around, watching and waiting and trying to find a moment to approach you. You think you'll have to find the moment for him when Nightwing finally sits next to you, his movements silent and slow. He looks at you long and hard, his own eyes hidden behind his mask as you stare out at the water, waiting for him to decide how this will all go.

"I don't always say the right thing," is what he ends up confessing. "And it wasn't fair for you to be on the receiving end of that. I'm… sorry."

"I started it," you say simply. "You shouldn't apologize for biting back."

"No," Dick says carefully, tapping his finger on his thigh. "But I should apologize for how I did it." You look at him, then, eyes searching his face and cursing the masks you both wear, layers of protection against anyone who would try to know you.

"Did you mean it?" You finally ask. "Is it true? Because if it is… if it is, then you should only apologize for lying to me up till now."

"It's not," Dick answers, and there's something in the clear ring of his voice that reminds you of Bruce. Your lips twitch into a smile as you think of how unhappy he'd be to find that out. "Things with Bruce and I… well, I'm sure you know they weren't always good."

"I don't actually know everything," you huff back. "Even my eavesdropping has limitations - especially with all of you. You're a lot harder to hide from than everyone else." Dick grins at that, a self-satisfied sort of thing that makes you regret speaking.

"Well, it's lucky, I guess," he goes on. "The Bruce you know now - he's a lot better than he was in the beginning."

"Don't you think we all are?" You ask before you can stop yourself, eyes snapping back out to the water as you desperately try to close yourself off from him, heart hammering at the response you're sure to get. There is no part of you that's getting better. There is no part of you that can be good. But Dick just readjusts how he's sitting, sliding closer so that your shoulders bump and he can tap your hands with his own, a silent chide for the way you twist your fingers nervously.

"You're right," he says plainly, and suddenly you're glad for the masks. You're not sure what would happen if you looked over and saw that big brother, sick-with-pride look he's so fond of. "When Jason came along, it felt a bit too much like being replaced. I know it was a long time ago, but… maybe I still feel it a bit more than I should - whenever anyone new comes along. It's not your fault… it's not your fault and I'm glad you're here."

You sigh at his words, tipping back until you're laying on the rooftop, your legs still kicking over the edge as you pretend to look up at the stars, blinking tears away rapidly behind your mask. You're sure he knows, but you're also sure he's too kind to say anything, laying back with you and interlocking his hands behind his head to lean on.

There's a lot you think you should say right now. I'm sorry, I love you, thank you for coming back for me. Thank you for not leaving me behind. Thank you for not giving up on me.

"What are you hanging around here tonight for, anyway?" Is what comes out instead, but you find you aren't so bothered by it this time.

"Want me to stick around? Finish your patrol with you?" Is his only answer. You huff.

"I don't need help taking care of the docks. I've been doing that longer than I've been involved with you idiots." Dick laughs, loud enough that you groan and roll away from him, standing up and crossing your arms.

"Well, you never know, then," he responds easily as he swings himself to his feet. "Maybe we could learn something from each other."

"Fine," you snipe back, but you can't help the way you bounce on the balls of your feet, a weight you hadn't realized you'd been carrying starting to lift. "Maybe we can."

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kokon0is · 1 year

Text

★ WHAT WOULD CANCEL BLUE LOCK BOYS IN THE INTERNET ★

with — Rin, Shidou, Sae, Nagi

basically just about what canceled people have done but its blue lock characters

cw: mentions of violence (shidou and sae) mentions of reo x nagi 😭 (they’re not in a relationship here just a online inside joke in their fandom)

disclaimer: all just headcanons, all of em never happened, not canon 🫡

★ RIN

just some random day his name was just trending on twitter and people just keep on saying that “Rin is a nepo baby but his brother is the famous one” — “he’s only famous because of his brother”

honestly got canceled for no reason and he doesn’t give a fuck

he would wear those shirt with a “nepo baby” text on it

he would also get alot of backlash about his behavior. “he doesn’t wave at his fans” “he doesn’t want to take pictures together” “he flip us off”

he would go live on insta and have the funniest response on his issues (and they’re mostly used on tiktok as reaction vids)

haters wont affect him if he’s the biggest hater in this planet 🫡

and also restored tweets literally just bashing some other soccer players

★ SHIDOU

mainly literally brawling with rin in the middle of their game

“why is he still on the team anyway” “i can’t believe ya’ll still support shitdou” “all this tiktok girlies will make edits of him being this violent, poor rin :((“

people (rin’s fans) hated his guts because he always pick a fight with rin

another mf who won’t give a fuck about the internet have to say

restored tweets. mostly just saying the most horny statement known to man

has cheating allegations too

“bro thinks he’s aiku 😂” — “are they real? HAHWJSHA” — “bro he gets girlfriends?”

he enjoys being a menace in the internet, he’s fine being a clown of it or whatever he just want to piss people off

★ SAE

being literally friends with shidou 😭😭

“no wonder he’s also a meanie”— “yall need to see someone if you guys find red flags like them hot😭”— “gahdam what’s wrong with his hair🤨”

he gets alot of hate already about his attitude

said a slur once

run over a paparazzi once with his luxurious car

but people find it really hard to hate him fully because he always get the best plays whenever he’s on the field, that at the end of the day more people still will be cheering for him

one of his big issue is literally having a own fight with his OWN brother

people think that’s too far already and feels sorry for rin

“poor guy no wonder why he’s so emo he have a brother like this” — “its always the older siblings” — “this whole soccer thing is turning into a drama”

★ NAGI

he has very overly obsessed fans

yep. i like to think that aside football, he also streams online to show off his gaming skills

doesn’t care about the hate comments he gets because he know that haters can’t be avoided when you’re famous. BUT HIS FANS ON THE OTHER HAND…

if you said something that he didn’t like the world will most likely know your address or something because his fans are gnna come for you

and his fans will probably bully tf out of his haters too 😭

“nagi stans are krazy bruh dont mess with them” — “those nagi stans need jail time 😬” — “nagi control ur fandom 😐 they’re ruining lives online”

will apologize on his fans behalf

has probably said something homophobic accidentally and didn’t know it was that offensive til he reads his chats

“ayo! HAHAHAHAH don’t you have a boyfriend?”— “reo collect ur man HAHAHA” — “bro why u said that 💀”

would apologize for the lack of knowledge

nagi: guys reo is not my boyfriend, he’s my best friend y’ll

thanks for reading lads

#bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #blue lock itoshi rin #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock spoilers #blue lock #bllk imagines #blue lock shidou #shidou x reader #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi brothers #nagi x reader #nagi headcanons #reo mikage #nagi blue lock

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

Text

Every Little Bit | Billy Washington x SexuallyConfident!reader

Summary: Billy has never been the confident one in the relationship. So you endeavour to make him feel how he deserves | Word Count: | Warnings below the cut!

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist

requested by @randomdragonfires, sorry it's taken me so long to get round to it 😅

Warnings: mentions of a bad past relationship, p in v sex, mentions of feeling inadequate, confidence issues, masturbation (f and m), cumplay, voyeurism, use of sex toys, overstim

Out of all the guys she’d been with, Billy Washington seemed the most innocent-looking.

He had the face for it. With those big blue eyes, messy blonde hair and the irresistible way he would nervously lick his soft pink lips when he was anxious.

She wasn’t ashamed to say that it excited her.

In complete contrast to that, he was tall, broad, with a sharp jawline and a sometimes striking gaze when his eyelids were hooded. Sometimes she found herself just looking at his hands as he wringed them, how his long, thick fingers curled around each other, tucking into his palms.

He was a somewhat introverted guy, she found out. But it was endearing. He was a listener, when he was sober, fading into the background as much as a tall guy could, his eyes darting to whoever was speaking. But when he had a drink in his hand and some beer in his belly, he began to come out of his shell a little, yet still softly spoken. Choosing his words carefully to not draw too much attention to himself.

It was a shame, she mused.

She chalked it up mostly to his ex-girlfriend, who, from what she’d heard, had done very little to quell his nerves and insecurities. In fact, it seemed like she nurtured them, in order to perhaps feel better about herself.

That was the biggest crime of all. Forcing Billy to feel lesser than he was.

Than he deserved.

In their moments of quiet within his flat, legs tangled beneath the sheets, with his head pressed between her shoulder and chest as she absent-mindedly played with his hair, he would often say.

“Why the hell are you with a guy like me?”

The question didn’t come from nowhere. It was a familiar one, and asked often.

She never knew why he’d even ask?

“You could have any guy you wanted”

But she wants him.

What about that is so difficult to understand?

She quickly discovered though, that it was because Billy thought he wasn’t satisfying her.

So often had his ex expressed disappointment, with faked orgasms or huffs of annoyance, that Billy thought himself incapable of giving a single female pleasure.

She thought it was absurd.

The way Billy approached sex was another thing.

It was clear he wasn’t confident, unclear more so if he ever had been. He’d obviously had his fair share of girlfriends, had sexual relationships with most of them, but had never really allowed himself to be vulnerable with any of them intimately.

Not to mention, she doubted he’d ever divulged what he liked.

A people pleaser, through and through.

She knew he was only human. That beneath that good boy exterior there was something. Things he liked, but wouldn’t dare to ask for. Things he might have wanted to do to her, but wouldn’t say out loud.

It was a mission, to find out what made Billy Washington click.

Being unapologetically sexual was never an issue for her. Nor communication with previous partners (at least on her side anyway). Not that she was perfect in her opinion by any stretch, but she always, always, knew what she wanted. In her eyes, there was no need to be embarrassed about what you desire, or about telling that to the person that you trust and love.

Clearly, Billy’s trust had been shattered before she came into his life.

She looked up from her phone as she heard the front door, the clanging of keys in a bowl and shuffling of long, muffled footsteps.

A mischievous smile grew on her face as she laid atop his bed, in only his long t-shirt and nothing else, one hand pressed between her mid thighs to warm and comfort the hand that wasn't scrolling through her phone.

She heard his exasperated sigh and saw his sandy, blond hair as he turned towards the bedroom, halting on the spot as his baby blue eyes locked onto her legs first, trailing upwards to where the skin was covered by his shirt.

His cheeks were flushed. He'd obviously had a pint.

"Have a good time?", she asked warmly.

She saw him swallow thickly, his full lips parting to remember to breathe, "Mmhm".

Flopping her phone onto the bedside table, she rested her head in her palm, "What's up?"

Billy had to shake his head a few times to rid himself of what he thought was a trance, no doubt doubled by the little bit of alcohol in his system, "U-uh, nothing…" he murmured, pulling off his jacket and stepping across the threshold.

"Were you uh…waiting up for me?", Billy asked with a hint of hope in his voice that was difficult to miss.

She slides off the bed, shuffling up to his tall, broad figure, having to crane her neck to look at him properly through her eyelashes. Billy shivers noticeably as her hands drift across his chest, her fingers teasing the skin of his torso through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Though they'd been together for some time, even Billy understood, there was something different about tonight.

"What if I was?", she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice that makes Billy's hairs stand up on end.

He presses his lips together, feeling increasingly pent up by the second, as if her touch is setting off a chain reaction inside him, and he is fit to burst.

“What if I was thinking about you?”, she muses in a low tone, smiling when she feels him tense under her touch.

“About me?...”

“Yeah”

“In…what way?” he asks innocently.

She thinks, feigning disinterest for a moment as she bites her lip.

“I’ve been thinking, that you don’t tell me what you want”.

She watches his brows lower a bit in confusion, “...what I want?”

“Mmhm”, she replies, “in the bedroom anyway”.

“Oh”

She smiled with delight as his cheeks warmed, the redness blooming over his face, making his deep, blue eyes gleam from beneath his sweeping blonde hair.

Almost in a trance, Billy's hands drift beneath her arms to her waist, sucking the large shirt she wore to the actual shape of her body. She watched his face as his lips parted.

Billy didn't know what to say.

"I, uh…"

"You can tell me, Billy" she reassured quietly, watching his breath hitch, and his chest move more steadily as her fingers brushed the skin beneath his shirt.

She stopped when his hands came to hers, to gently, but firmly, push them off him.

“Not tonight…” he whispered, so quiet she nearly had to strain to hear him, “...please”.

How he said it was so vulnerable, his eyes blinking quickly, that she knew and took the cue to not even go about asking what was really wrong with him. She suspected it was something much deeper, something that needed a lengthy explanation, and one that right now he couldn’t give her.

She gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know that he needn’t feel like he was disappointing her.

She thought with a warmth in her heart, that Billy had come home, wavy from only one pint, only wanting to be held, have her fingers stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

So tonight, without judgement, she gave him comfort.

And would let him come to her when he was ready.

She loved mornings like this.

Lazy, hazy Saturdays.

The middle of the weekend. Leaving the stressful memory of Friday, flung headlong into the lull that Saturday offered, and without the threat of Sunday, knowing that the work week would just continue all over again.

With the bed sheets tucked around her idly, she scrolled through her phone with heavy eyelids, she could hear the faint tapping of the shower in the background and the occasional splash of water as Billy washed his hair.

The dust was illuminated as it drifted through the air, the atmosphere one a kind of homely, cosiness. The music from one of the speakers in the other room filled the gentle silence.

It was so domestic, she could only describe it that way. One that filled a space inside her that made her feel as if she could stay like this forever.

She thought of him, in the shower, water running off of him and his blonde hair all wet and pushed back from his forehead with his fingers. And for some reason, though they’d been together a long time, the idea of that still excited her.

It was useless to ignore how she pressed her thighs together.

It had been a few days since she and Billy were last intimate. And though she tried the night before, it was clear as anything he was in no mood for anything overtly sexual, favouring instead to bask in their closeness. She didn’t mind it. She would much rather him state if he wasn’t in the mood, than for him to push it aside, and struggle to keep the momentum going and be passionate once they were in the throes of it.

Because that would only fuel the inadequacy Billy felt.

And she wasn’t having that.

Tucking her phone beneath the pillow, she sighed as her hand slipped between her legs, finding herself already wet and wanting at the mere thought of her boyfriend in the shower. If she weren’t so pent up, she would have said to herself it was slightly pathetic, to be this aroused just by thinking about someone she saw everyday naked.

But she just couldn’t help herself.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing a sound that bubbled up there as her digits moved through her slick folds, her hips jolting slightly when her middle finger began to rub in micro-movements over her bud. Imagining it was him. His long,thick fingers…

She sunk further into the bed, the idle sound of muffled music in the background granting her the confidence to part her lips and let her quiet moans rumble in her chest.

With one hand pleasuring herself, the other slipped beneath her shirt to touch her own breast, again pretending they were his, large and calloused, gripping at her flesh hungrily, squeezing her nipples between his fingers desperately.

That dull buzz began to throb between her legs, and she paid more attention to her clit where she increased her movements.

Her head whipped to the doorway, her eyes flying open and breath caught in her chest, all movements ceased.

Her first instinct was to blush in embarrassment as Billy stood in the doorway, his blue eyes slowly drifting from where her hands were tucked and then to her eyes, absorbing the hedonistic and shy expression on her face.

Billy just stood there, clad only in his sweatpants that hung lowly on his hips, and the appearance of his body so unabashedly bared, the little trail of dark blonde hair leading down from his navel beneath the waistband, made that little buzz only ache tighter inside her. His hair was towel dried and pushed back off his forehead, the sandy strands darkened with moisture and laying messily on his head.

She wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

He saw her swallow nervously, seeing her not know what to do as he’d happened upon her in a very delicate moment, so lost in her pleasure that she had not heard him turn off the shower and open the door.

Her mouth went dry as she saw beneath his dark sweatpants, that he was undeniably hard, his erection pressed against his thigh.

Billy breathed steadily, his eyes flitting down once he realised she had stopped what she’d been doing.

His throat bobbed and he wet his lips as he spoke, “Keep going”.

Heat crawled up her neck to her face, and she was certain she was blushing furiously at what he’d said.

Never in their relationship had she seen him speak to her like he just had. All low and deep in his chest, with his usually gleaming, blue eyes darkened by his pupils expanding into the colour.

After she was sure she heard him correctly, she resumed her motions slowly at first, getting back into the motion steadily as she had before. Her head felt like it was full of hot air, once she saw Billy’s large hand slip past the waistband of his sweatpants and grip his length in his palm. Even from her spot on the bed, she saw the way he fisted his erection, his eyes fixed on her core, all wet and hot, peeking out from beneath the hem of his own shirt.

It felt so erotic, pleasuring himself when he was right there watching her, annoyingly far away where she couldn’t touch him.

A sound largely between a groan of annoyance and a moan of pleasure as her movements increased tumbled past her lips. And she was sure that she saw Billy’s eyes light up as he saw how irritated she was that she couldn’t reach out to him. To touch him as she so often couldn’t help herself from doing when they were intimate with each other.

“Billy...” she breathed, hoping that her tone of voice would be enough.

“Show me” his voice was firm, but with a waver at the end as his motions beneath his sweatpants increased, his chest all tense as his core tightened with pleasure.

Feeling her face all hot with both embarrassment and arousal, she pushed her ankles apart even more, doing as he said and exposing herself to him as he pleasured herself, finally sinking her fingers inside her. Her arousal audibly clicked against her fingers as she hastened her ministrations, trying so badly to achieve fulfilment herself.

But with him in the room, so far away but within reach, all she felt was that she needed him to give it to her.

Billy sighed, his pink lips parted as his gaze returned to her weeping arousal between her legs, seeing the effect he had on her without having touched her.

Using his other hand, he pushed the waistband slightly off his hip, pulling his length from its confines to show her the effect that she had on him.

She felt her insides clench around nothing, hungrily wanting him inside her when she saw him pleasure himself, his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumping in sure, confident movements.

She thought that if she closed her eyes and opened them again, he might take pity on her and just come over to the bed and fuck her, as she so desperately wanted. In all their relationship, she’d never been left wanting for him, ever. She’d always been the one to give to him, to give him pleasure, and in the bargain have some fun for herself, as she so often enjoyed feeling as if she was the only one who could give it to him.

And right now, she thought he must look utterly pathetic, not even having the energy to beg for him to fuck her.

The ends of his hair had begun to dry and she felt her tummy do backflips as he moved from the doorway towards her. Without thinking, she had slowed her movements, expecting him to have finally caved.

The mattress dipped at her ankles where he was knelt, but other than the brush of them against her flesh, he didn’t touch her, and he certainty hadn’t ceased the movements of his hand around his length.

Now, knelt over her like this, his tall form casting somewhat of a shadow over hers, she felt her walls flutter around her own fingers with excitement, desperate to be stretched to accommodate to his length that was so close to her.

“I don’t think I said stop, did I?”

She felt her mouth go all dry, the strands of his hair moving with every tug of his fist on his cock.

Billy looked down at her, watching with a sort of curiosity as she resumed, taking his words to heart. Wanting to please him.

She’d never felt so small in her life.

And, fuck, it was exciting to see this side of him.

He began to pump his cock in earnest, a slight pinkness to his cheeks from the effort, lips parted in hurried breath. He reached over, into the bedside table and threw the mini vibrator he knew was there onto the spot next to her.

She looked up in brief confusion, he wasn’t going to use it on her?

She felt entirely pent up, just wanting him to touch her.

“Billy, please…” she caved and begged, her face warm with slight humiliation at having to ask.

He batted her hand away when she tried to touch his torso, watching with a blank expression at the brief annoyance on her face.

“You can touch me when you cum”.

He had such a serious expression on his face, it was difficult to detect any sign in him that he was actually enjoying this.

She swallowed thickly and gasped when her other hand pressed the vibrator against her clit, pleasuring herself in two separate ways as her fingers continued to shallowly slide inside her with a wet, soft smack of her arousal. Having these two sensations at once was borderline overwhelming.

And part of her was flushed, that Billy was just right there, pleasuring himself while he watched her.

She closed her eyes, but Billy was quick to it.

“Look at me”.

She felt her core tighten impossibly, her movements becoming quicker and more needy as she neared that point of no return. The point where she would lose herself entirely.

And so she pressed the vibrator against her clit harder, using her slick to move it around in micro-movements as she canted her hips up to assist the friction there. Her eyes pulled up to him, and for some reason, looking into his eyes as he stared down at her instead of watching the way he pleasured himself right in front of her, was much much more intimate and erotic.

Billy himself began to breathe heavier, his chest moving erratically up and down, a sheen of sweat over his skin there, his grip on himself tightening.

“You close?” he asked breathily, feeling as if he was about to explode with arousal.

She nodded quickly, and without noticing circled the vibe around her bud, aided by how wet she was, “Yes - yes, Billy -”

She felt her hips shift down into the bed, thighs shaking as her orgasm rolled over her in waves. Her fingers dragged through her fluttering walls, the vibrator still buzzing incessantly on her clit as the numbness flooded her limbs, warmth flooding through her to the place where she needed him the most.

She wanted to pull the vibe away, overstimulation beginning to gnaw at her pleasure, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she looked up at Billy again when his other hand reached down and held her wrist in place. His eyes boring down into hers, just daring her to say something in response.

But she didn’t.

“-fuck, Billy-” she whined, her stomach clenching and unclenching in brief discomfort as yet another rush threatened to overcome her. Her lips hung open, and she wanted to shut her eyes badly, to cut off at least one feeling so that she could concentrate on the other between her legs.

It was too much.

She thought with a sort of bashfulness that she wanted to cum again purely at the feeling of his fingers on her flesh.

She felt moisture around her eyes, the pleasure so closely nearing on pain, but never quite overstepping that fine line between them. It was almost as if she could feel every erratic beating of her heart through her core, the second orgasm completely draining all the energy out of her.

Billy moaned loudly, partly cut off with a full body shudder as he tugged at his length to completion. The moan lingering on his sweet voice as he painted her pussy with his cum, sighing as he continued to pump himself, as if the sight of her covered in his spend was just too erotic to comprehend.

She flinched, her hips jolting upwards to meet him when he leaned down to rub the head of his cock over her clit and entrance, smearing his cum over her pussy, in a gesture that tugged at that pleasurable spot deep in her gut.

The only sound either of them were able to make were the tired remnants of moans on their hurried breaths.

When her heavy eyelids lifted to him again, she thought he looked like a piece of art. Broad and tall, his flesh tied with wiry muscle, subtle beneath the soft surface of his skin.

And for a moment, as Billy rode out his high that seemed to take everything out of him, they simply looked at each other as if something in the dynamic of their relationship had irrevocably changed.

There was something else in his baby blue eyes she’d never seen before. A shift.

Something inside him had been awakened, like he had enjoyed exerting a power and assertiveness over her that he’d never tried before.

He reached over, his palm pressing into the space on the mattress next to her head as he leaned over her. Her lips parted in surprise and pleasure when he dipped down and slid his length past her slick folds and slowly sank inside her, stretching her already abused and tender walls out around him, moulding her insides to the shape of him.

Billy sighed, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her pussy gripping him hungrily, already clenching around his overly-sensitive cock. But as soon as his eyes opened again, his face now close to hers as he pushed inside her to the hilt, the hair at the base of him brushing against her clit, she raised her legs to hook around his hips.

And felt as if she’d seen someone else she’d never met before.

Her eyes rolled shut as his palm laid flat on her tummy, drifting up and taking the shirt with it, palming needily at her breasts as he began a mercifully soft and careful pace.

One she had no doubt would become more eager.

Part of her worried she wouldn’t leave this bed for a long while. The other wanted to smile, happy that Billy had felt comfortable and confident enough, finally, to demonstrate what he really, really wanted.

It seemed trivial perhaps to some, that a confidence, even sexually, could give so much power to a person and enhance the personality that was already there. To help them feel as loved as they deserved to feel.

She’d suspected for so long that he’d been hiding something. Something he was too nervous to ask for. Fearing perhaps that she would judge him.

But as he pressed his chest to hers, his hands snaking around her waist and her buttocks to push her body up to meet his desperate thrusts, she only felt relieved and undeniably happy, that she had been able to give him this freedom.

And she thought with a hint of selfishness…

…that she could get used to this.

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x y/n #billy washington fanfic #billy washington x oc #billy washington trigger point #trigger point billy washington #trigger point bbc #trigger point series #billy washington smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #trigger point fanfiction #trigger point fanfic #trigger point billy #ewan nation #billy washington fanfiction

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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my heart is my armor for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Spring Challenge (mwah mwah!) | *ao3 link here*

Eddie doesn’t understand Steve’s sudden interest in having a garage sale. Everything that they own is junk disguised as furniture. None of it is worth looking at, let alone buying.

Besides, they don’t even have a garage. They’re still slumming it in this dingy duplex, too broke to afford decent cutlery.

“A garage sale with no garage is just false advertisement, babe.” Eddie flops onto his stomach, hears the boxsprings of their shitty mattress groan underneath him.

“We need to do some spring cleaning anyways.” Steve sinks his nails into Eddie’s hair, scratches at his roots the way Eddie likes it best. It’s all mindless now, physical affection. Five months ago, both of them would’ve been scared shitless to behave this way. Now, it’s easy.

Routine bliss.

“Might as well make a few extra dollars out of it.” Steve adds.

Eddie scoffs. Flattens his face into the mattress, ignores the questionable dude smell. “What the fuck is spring cleaning anyways?”

“Just a thing. Always has been.”

“Hmph.”

Spring cleaning sounds like a tradition that rich assholes invented as an excuse to throw away the winter jackets they never even wore - never even took the tags off of. Eddie can just imagine a gaggle of housewives, swishing their wine and speaking in some fake transatlantic accent: ‘Oh sweet darling lambchop, it’s not wasteful. It’s simply a bit of spring cleaning.’

“I never agreed to do spring cleaning.” Eddie says.

“You never agree to do cleaning, period.”

“That’s not true. I did the laundry last month.”

Which isn’t a lie. Eddie did three (two) loads of laundry after Steve refused to go anywhere near it. Claims that the final straw was seeing some sort of mutated rodent emerging from their hamper.

“Oh that?” Eddie had fished his brain for a plausible explanation. “That was just a mouse or a rat or a… miniature possum. Something like that.” At the time, he phrased the whole thing like the weirdest multiple choice quiz - the most suitable answer being Something Like That.

“Whatever.” Steve snorts, likely recalling that same night. He turns off the lamp, lets the dark bleed into the room, swallowing the light.

They both inch into the middle of the bed, where it’s naturally starting to dip at the center. All of their belongings are used, including this mattress. If money weren’t an issue, they would invest in a new one.

Or not. Eddie kind of likes that it sags in the middle, where they always meet. Like it’s giving in, shaping itself around the weight of their relationship.

The thought makes him smile, a stupidly smitten grin at his stupidly pretty boyfriend.

“What?” Steve pokes a finger at the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“Nothing.” He catches Steve’s finger, pretends to gnaw it off his hand till Steve laughs. Best fucking sound, even better in their bed.

Christ, he’s so in love. Wants a megaphone to scream about how in love he is with Steve Harrington. Wants to call a local radio station and request the sappiest love songs imaginable. Wants to be able to just say it, then never stop saying it.

That feels colossal though. Like the playfulness will fizzle out or the blissful routine will rupture.

So he just says it in other ways, like tonight.

“Okay, fine. You win.” Which is a direct translation to those three important words, because Eddie hates losing. One of his top ten least favorite things in this world is losing.

He folds Steve’s fingers into a fist, kisses over every knuckle. Looks up to see Steve blinking slowly, half-asleep. Looks happy.

And damn, that makes it all worth it, right? Losing so Steve can win. That makes it tolerable, almost enjoyable, for a soft expression like that.

“I’ll do the non-garage garage sale.”

Steve yawns, nuzzles into his side of the pillow. “I knew you would.”

Eddie complains the entire time they clean. Makes the biggest fuss, stomps from room to room. Their place is small, sure. Yet somehow, they generate enough dust and dirt to fill multiple trash bags. Which means multiple trips to the dumpster.

Fuck Spring for making cleanliness a seasonal personality trait.

It’s late into the afternoon when they finally take a break. Both of them are pretty disgusting, so they sit on the front steps of the duplex.

“Quit scowling, you big baby.” Steve passes a glass of water to Eddie. Takes a long chug from his own glass, throwing his head back to get more down.

No human being has the right to look this sexy without proper legal representation. But Steve wears dirt and sweat like an accessory. Makes the grime so damn rugged, utterly hot.

Yeah. Eddie finally can relate to all the women that drool over erotica novel covers. Fully gets the appeal.

“So, find anything worth selling?” Steve asks.

“As a matter of fact, yeah. I did.”

Eddie reaches to his side and grabs a black binder: Steve’s baseball card collection. An extensive one at that.

He smooths over the plastic cover, fluttering his lashes up at Steve, who seems to be seconds away from hulking out over the suggestion.

“Oh fuck that, man!” Steve yanks the binder from Eddie’s hand. “I’ve had those since I was a kid!”

“Which is exactly why it’s time to retire them. Give them a new home. One that’s not a brothel for cockroaches.”

Really, Eddie gets far too much pleasure out of this. Watching people squirm under the uncomfortable magnifying glass of his sense of humor.

Steve cracks his neck to one side and snarls.

Ha. Perfect. Eddie has dwindled him down to nonverbal replies. Just caveman actions that are equally as sexy as the dirt and sweat.

But Steve throws a curveball, too quick to catch. He slips into the house and returns with one of Eddie’s favorite cups. “And what about these, huh? What about your dorky Star Wars glasses?”

Okay, ouch. This game is not funny anymore. Totally bypassed Humor and went straight to Dire territory.

Han may have shot first, but Steve Harrington is aiming where it hurts. Cutting him deep (deeper than that very unlucky tauntaun…).

“These are collectibles, Steven. Collectibles!” Eddie exaggerates every syllable, first-grade teacher style. “I spent two years tracking down the complete Empire Strikes Back set. Still missing three from Return of the Jedi, but whatever. Progress is progress.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, these are valuable.”

“Like, worth a lot of money?”

“No. You know what I mean…” Eddie stands. He carefully grabs the glass from Steve and holds it up to the sun.

All the designs are just as vibrant as the day he found them. Him and Wayne had searched almost a dozen Burger Kings before he found this design - the scene on Endor. Eddie will never forget that day.

“The memories.” He finally answers. “These are sentimental and shit.”

Steve hums, nodding. “They mean something to you.”

“Precisely.”

“Noted.” He takes the cup back inside. There’s silence for another minute before Steve lurks around the door, saying:

“Then I guess we’ll have to sell one of your guitars instead.”

Oh shit.

Another direct hit to Eddie’s blackened heart.

“You little fucker!” He chases Steve all around the kitchen and into their bedroom. Wrestles him down on their saggy bed, instantly dirtying up again.

They end up with a decent amount of items to sell that Saturday morning. Duplicate records and cassettes, a few kitchen gadgets from Steve’s grandma, and some trinkets that Robin kindly donated. A hodgepodge of treasures, that’s what Steve keeps saying.

He’s so proud of their three tables of junk. Hodgepodge treasures, whatever. Just keeps rearranging things and straightening them out. Concentrating so hard that his eyebrows crease together. Adorably focused. Eddie loves when he gets like this. If they weren’t in a conservative small town in broad daylight, he’d kiss Steve’s twisted-up lips, make him relax a little.

“I…” Eddie starts, quickly tripping on his own tongue. Stumbles over that dumb fucking word. Four letters should not hold the power of an entire emotion, goddamnit.

He scoots out of his lawn chair, stretching upward. “I think I’ll go pester the lemonade stand across the street. Haggle the price down to a penny or something.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “You get more bizarre every day, Munson.”

“So does the economy, Harrington.”

The lemonade stand is an immediate mistake. A little girl peers up at Eddie, eyes starting to swell with tears. Maybe the clouds are casting a big, scary shadow over him, making him look twice as evil.

Or maybe he severely underestimated how badass his look really is, who fucking knows.

He dives right into his haggling-monologue, when the girl points to his latest Iron Maiden patch on his vest. Asks in the thinnest voice who the ‘skeleton man’ is.

And look, Eddie doesn’t mess around when it comes to educating this fine nation’s youth. So he answers honestly:

“Eddie the Head. A vessel for soul-sucking metal.”

The answer is probably what makes her run. But it’s definitely the voice that opens up the floodgates.

Anyways, he’s not just gonna let all this freshly-squeezed goodness go to waste. That would be a shame. A travesty, even.

So he helps himself to two full cups of lemonade. Makes a quick escape before the kid’s parents bring pitchforks.

Eddie sneaks up behind Steve, whispers nervously in his ear. “Well… there’s good news and there’s bad news.”

“What did you do?” Steve doesn’t miss a beat.

“I got the lemonade for free.” He hops up on the table, waves the proof around with a big, cheesy grin. Still no reaction from Steve, so what the hell? Might as well get all the information out there.

“Bad news is, I made the pigtailed kid cry.”

“Dude!”

“It’s not my fault!” Eddie is suddenly very defensive. “She asked who this ‘skeleton man’ on my vest is and I couldn’t lie.”

“You lie about shit all the time.”

“Not about history, Steve! Get your head out of your perfectly-shaped ass.”

Steve puts his hand over Eddie’s mouth, gesturing to the nearby shoppers. Not that Eddie is overly concerned about what the elderly couple can hear from this distance. And he assumes that the suspender-wearing dude admiring the Barry Manilo record, would probably agree on his Ass Opinions.

However, Steve is shrinking further into his chair from Eddie’s commentary. Grunting something unintelligible but mostly likely explicit.

“Here.” Eddie determines that the safest solution is to back down. Ease off until Steve’s complexion returns to normal colors. “You can have the lemonade that isn’t diluted with the tears of a child.”

Steve laughs into the cup and takes a long swig. Chases it with an exaggerated ‘aaah’ like all of those airbrushed models do in the commercials.

Eddie is just so damn crazy about this guy. Would drink a thousand tear-soaked beverages for Steve if it meant getting to experience every day just like this. With a smile like that.

“How is it?” Steve asks.

“Tastes like citrus and fear.” Eddie responds proudly with a wink.

There’s a pause before they both erupt into laughter. Steve slapping Eddie’s knee rather than his own. Eddie snorting like a sitcom dweeb. He’s laughing so hard that he almost misses Steve uttering the most incredible sentence:

“God, I love you.”

Says it just like that. Clear as water. Easier than oxygen. Like he has told Eddie that very phrase a thousand times before.

And Eddie… Eddie can’t locate a single word in his brain. His access to language is padlocked after hearing that. Experiencing that.

All he can do is move. Move away from the table. Move behind the clothing rack full of used jackets. Move his arms outward, pulling Steve along with him.

He kisses Steve before he does something stupid like scream or flail around. If he’s going to open his big mouth, it’s going to be against Steve’s lips. Licking the drops of lemon clean off his mouth. Pushing his linen-soft hair back and holding it between his fingers.

They’re obscured by clothes and scarves, but it’s risky. Too risky to linger into a deeper kiss like Eddie craves to do. So he lets go of this moment and ducks into the house to catch his breath.

The rest of the day goes by at hyper speed, too fast to notice details. Not that anything could possibly top hearing Steve say what he said. It’s tattooed deep into everything Eddie hears, permanently inked in his mind.

Once they head back inside, Steve flicks through the wad of cash, counting their profit. It’s not much, merely pocket change - but certainly more than either of them expected. Eddie chalks up the surprising amount to Steve's charm and short-shorts. The yummiest eye-candy of the whole damn neighborhood.

“We should save up for a trip.” Steve suggests.

Eddie raises his brows. “A trip?”

“A vacation. You know, get away from this shithole town for a weekend.” The more he talks, the more Steve’s face glows. Fucking shines with daydreams. “A change of scenery might be nice.”

Eddie holds back the urge to remind Steve that he’s the best scenery in the solar system. He already gushes too much, too often. It’s bound to scare Steve off at some point.

So he simply kisses Steve’s shoulder instead, agreeing with a soft hum.

He starts to fall asleep while listening to Steve name all the places they should travel to. The last one he remembers is Boston.

“Boston would be fucking awesome, right?”

Eddie nods. Drifts off.

Thinks that anywhere with Steve Harrington would be fucking awesome.

Eddie heads up north for a couple of weeks to help Wayne move into his new place. Since Hawkins was previously sliced apart like pizza, Wayne wisely decided to retire early. Used his government hush-money in the most predictable way he could.

“All I need, son, is an empty mind and lake full of fish.” And that’s exactly what he gets. A one-story house near the top of Lake Michigan. Has one hell of a view too.

They head out to the private dock to chat and fish. Except Eddie isn’t too keen on jabbing sharp metal into a water-dweller’s mouth, so he keeps Wayne company on the dock. Lends an ear for all of his stories.

“Shame that Steve couldn’t make it.” Wayne waits to bring him up till they start packing up for the evening.

“Yeah. It is.” Eddie agrees. Misses him already. “Next time though.”

During his last weekend with Wayne, a package arrives on the front porch. It’s addressed to Eddie, which is strange. The only people that know he’s here are his boyfriend, his bandmates, and his boss. More than likely, Steve probably told their crew of demon-destroyers too, but still…

Why would anyone bother to send him a package if he’s driving back home in three days? Doesn’t add up.

He cuts into the cardboard, practically ruins the box. Inside, there’s an absurd amount of tissue paper. It’s stuffed in every corner, overflowing at the top, just a sea of noisy paper.

“Whatcha got there?” Wayne peers over his shoulder.

“Not sure yet.” Eddie sifts through the noise. Digging around more carefully now because he takes notice of the ‘Fragile’ labels on every side of the box.

He pulls out one of the overly-wrapped items, begins removing it from the tissue paper. After twirling through a few layers, he realizes exactly what it is.

Glass. Colorful designs. Fits in the palm of his hand.

The Star Wars cups. The last three Star Wars cups that had been missing from Eddie’s collection.

“No fucking way.”

“Watch it.” Wayne warns.

“It’s a warranted response, I promise.” Eddie hands the pristine Darth Vader glass over to Wayne. “Look!”

Wayne examines it for a while before letting out a long whistle. “Well I’ll be damned. Haven’t you been looking for these since-”

“1983.” Eddie answers. He gently picks up each glass, thumbs over the artwork to feel the tiny ridges of paint.

They’re in perfect condition too, more than perfect. No chips, no blemishes, no smudgy fingerprints (except for Eddie’s now). He has to place them back into the box because his hands are shaking with excitement. Smooths his palms against his jeans, head shaking in disbelief.

“That romantic asshole.” Eddie grumbles. “Couldn’t just wait to give me these once I get back home.”

Wayne cuts him a vicious side-eye, one that makes Eddie’s spine shiver. He's received this look many times throughout his childhood, even more in his teenage years. It’s Wayne’s signature stare before he calls Eddie out on his bullshit.

Apparently, it still has the same effect on him too. Works like witchcraft.

Wayne looks over the gifts, then back up at Eddie. His edge melts away, turns into something softer. Kinder.

“You know… some things can’t wait, son.”

With that, the tension in Eddie’s spine unravels. His chest inflates, warming up a few extra degrees. His whole body knows exactly what he needs to do - the thing that can’t wait another second.

The phone only rings through one time.

“This is Steve.” That voice. Hits like a homemade remedy.

“Hey, it’s Eddie.” His nails are tapping next to the phone speaker, rapid and impatient. “Listen, I just got your package and-”

“Oh, god.” Steve sounds pained all of a sudden. “Was it too much? Is it gonna be too difficult to transport back home? I know it would’ve just been easier to wait, except-”

“I love you.”

There it is. The words that can’t wait. The phrase that demands power.

“You… what?”

“I love you. Just, so much.” Eddie feels lighter, weight lifting from his lungs each time he says it. “And I couldn’t wait another second to tell you. So, yeah. Really, really in love with you, Steve.”

All Eddie can hear is Steve’s breath. Just as rapid as his nails tapping.

“Wow… um.” Steve clears his throat, but the sound comes out small. Strained. “Do you mind if I call you right back?”

Not the response Eddie was expecting. “Oh. Uh.”

“Just - hold on a sec.”

And the line clicks dead.

After the third hour of organizing pans in the kitchen, the only room close enough to launch himself at the phone if it were to ring, Eddie accepts defeat. Retreats to the guest bedroom, contemplating what the fuck went wrong.

He groans into the bedspread, claws at his hair till it’s a fucking jungle. Frizzed out beyond repair, just like his nerves.

“That’s enough moping.” Wayne knocks at the door, creaking it open. “We’re going down to the lake.”

There’s no point in arguing with him. The man is the human embodiment of Stubborn - more so than Eddie, which speaks volumes.

Besides, moping in a different location won’t make him any less pathetic.

Wayne is a master in the art of distraction. Doesn’t waste any time before telling Eddie all about the local gossip he overhears downtown. He quickly transitions into asking Eddie questions about his job. Continues this pattern till the sun falls into the horizon. Not allowing Eddie’s mind the chance to jump to conclusions until they get back to the house. To the phone.

The phone that’s still not ringing.

Wayne nudges Eddie’s arm. “Wanna give him a call?”

Yes. Desperately yes.

“Maybe. Gonna go change first.”

Eddie opens the door to the guest bedroom, and his lungs slingshot out of his chest.

Steve is there. Sitting on the bed. Looking at him with that knockout smile and slightly tired eyes.

“Hi.” He sits up a little straighter. Gives Eddie the tiniest wave.

“You’re… you-”

“Caught the first flight out here.” Steve cuts him off. “Had to.”

“How?”

“The vacation cash jar.”

No no no.

Eddie’s throat feels swollen with that realization. Knows just how fucking much that potential trip to Boston meant to Steve.

“But-”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” Eddie spits out. Needs to swallow this barrier of emotion in his throat so he can form an actual sentence, for christ’s sake. “Fuck. You just… have no idea how much I love you.”

Steve perks up even straighter, seems fully awake now. His smile creeps up to one side of his face, outright mischievous. He tilts his head to the side and holds an arm out, reaching for Eddie.

“Get over here and show me then.”

In one fluid motion, Eddie lands on the bed, draped in Steve’s arms. They kiss and cling to each other as if they might float off somewhere. It’s all too good, too delicious. Just can’t get enough of how Steve tastes, needs to savor it after not having him around for ten days.

Being under the covers, kissing wildly, is becoming dangerous. And if Wayne weren’t in the room directly across from them, Eddie would have Steve in unspeakable positions by now. Steve tugs multiple times at the zipper on Eddie’s jeans. Causes physical damage to Eddie’s horny soul to pull Steve's hand away.

They stay like this instead. Leisure, molasses kisses. Knotted fingers and tangled legs. Closer than skin.

Steve lifts up onto his elbow, swipes Eddie’s bangs off of his forehead to make room for another place to kiss. “Can’t believe it took a few dorky cups to make you realize you were in love with me,” he says, lips still smushed in that spot before backing away.

Eddie flips onto his back with a heavy sigh. No way he can look at Steve’s face while admitting this outloud. “I’ve loved you since the day you fed me a curly fry that you had twisted around your pinky.”

“That was the moment?”

“That was the moment.”

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Never gonna dodge that ‘freak’ reputation, am I?”

“Not a chance.”

The sky is dusted with stars that night. Not the kind of night sky they ever get to see in Hawkins. Steve marvels at them, mentions that he’s never seen so many at once, not even through a window.

“We could go outside?” Eddie offers. “See even more, if you want.”

“Fuck that.” Steve burrows his nose into Eddie’s neck. “Too comfy.”

Eddie agrees with a laugh. “It’s a good bed, isn’t it?”

“Ours is better.”

It’s not, it’s really not. Their bed is rotting, the oldest relic of their home.

But it bends with them, forms to their bodies perfectly.

And since this bed has yet to learn their language, Eddie takes the lead.

“You’re right.” He curls himself around Steve. Leans in closer and Steve follows. “Ours is definitely better.”

Even miles away from home, they somehow always manage to meet in the middle.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #lexsspringfanworkschallenge #I hope y'all like this one :)#it's still snarky but also cozy #and I definitely went overboard on the Star Wars jokes at one point #but yeah please enjoy this spring fic 💕

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emmyrosee · 8 months

Note

EMMY. EMMY. OH MY GOODNESS. I’M POPPING IN SUPER QUICKLY AFTER SEEING THE INBOX OPENING AGAIN TO GIVE U THIS ADORABLE THOUGHT I HAD!!!

(and ok Ik I said my next ramble would be Bakugou but I……. may or may not have lost the prompt I had written down to send in from back then……. I’M LOOKING FOR IT THO I SWEAR!!! I’ll make good on my promise, my memory is just bad and I can’t remember it for the life of me!!!)

ANYWAY!!!!!

I come to propose a question: how do you think the actual loml miya atsumu would deal with an incredibly needy s/o who is absolutely horrible at asking for affection even when you so desperately want it (me lmfao I can’t ask for shit without getting embarrassed)?? I’m talking giving him all the hints- tugging on his shirt, the pleading eyes, poking him until he’s annoyed enough to react, etc. Everything but outright asking for affection. I feel like at first he wouldn’t pick up on it but after he gets used to the habits? “Ohhhhh I see what you want baby”. Teases relentlessly until he finally gives in and gives you all the attention you could ever (not) ask for and THEN some. He’s always the one asking for affection, so when the roles are reversed why wouldn’t he make it worthwhile? He loves the smile and how happy and giggly you get after!!

maybe sometimes he’d even try a roundabout way of helping you get better at asking for things by being a little shit and doing something different from what you were hinting at until you finally ask, and he just gets the biggest smile on his face and cheers and :(((

…can you tell my love language is physical touch?? also that I’m lonely?? all I ever ramble on about is how badly I want to be on the receiving end of love and affection from these boys 🤪

anon <3

GOD. HANDS AND KNEES DAWG.

I feel like atsumu is the kinda boyfriend to be able to completely ask what he wants, and he left all of the being shy to osamu. He’s got no issue coming up to you and asking for some snuggles and affection, and while it’s not quite the same as him giving the affection to you, it’s enough contact where he’s on top of you or curled against you where you can scratch the need just a little bit.

But he doesn’t always need that level of babying. He doesn’t always have to be cuddled and have his hair carded and his arms gently rubbed, and sometimes, he completely bypasses attention all together because how is he supposed to know you need it when you can’t tell him?

Which, right now, it’s hard, because you just want to be coddled and loved, and he doesn’t seem to get it :(

So, you do start to rebel. Just slightly.

It starts small, you laying your legs across his lap on the couch in hopes he’ll tug you on top of him, but all he does is rub your shin with his thumb- when you poke him with your toes, he breaks out a tickle attack that has you screaming and giggling and satisfying a small part of you that needs him.

“Don’t poke me with your dogs, that’s nasty,” he snickers, placing a kiss on your cheek before gently moving your legs off of him, getting up and kissing you before heading to the kitchen.

When you follow him, he’s heating up some leftover pizza, and when you hoist yourself up and onto the counter in his way, he looks at you with beady eyes and pokes his tongue in the corner of his mouth.

“Must you sit right there?” He asks, motioning to the microwave just a few feet away. You giggle, and he rolls his eyes and gently places a few kisses along your neck and jawline and a final one on your lips. “Needy baby- go back to the couch, stay comfortable; I'm gonna bang out some of the chores.”

Your hands reach out to grip his shirt, and now the smile on his face slowly starts to fade. “Baby. I got shit to do. Let go.”

“No,” you whimper. And he’s getting annoyed, you can feel it, but you just...

You just want him so bad; he’s been so focused on other things today, things involving not you, and it’s making you antsy and honestly, a little frustrated.

Of course he's allowed to do other things through the day. But you just want ten minutes where you're his and his alone, and you don't have to share him with whatever stupid tasks cross his path.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulls out of your grip to eat the slice cold, mumbling a muffled "whatever" as he walks down the hall to the bedroom. You feel neglected, tossed aside, because you're not trying to be a force, you just need him to use his damn cognitive thinking for five damn seconds-

Against your better judgement perhaps, you get up and follow him to the bedroom, gnawing on your lip and fiddling with your fingers. there's a piece of pizza dangling from his teeth as he folds some of his laundry. Golden eyes flick to you, and you nod subtly as you make your way to the bed and pick up a clean shirt. It smells so clean, yet it lingers with the smell of his cologne and hair gel, and you clutch it close instead of folding it.

"Ya don't have to help," he says, using one of his hands to pull away the remaining bit of pizza. "But can I have that?"

"No."

"Babe-"

"I want it."

"Like... to have?" He pops the last of the pizza in his mouth.

You roll your eyes, "no... it just... smells like you."

"It shouldn't, I just washed it-"

"In a good way."

A brow raises, "well can't I just give you a hug so I can finish my laundry.

Before you can say anything else, his face softens, the cogs simply starting to turn at the sound of his own words. Maybe this did work...

“Oh.”

Maybe.

“Oh.”

Did it-

“I know what you want.”

Your heart races as he talks to you. A cocky smirk slowly spreads over his cheeks, and you whine softly in your throat as he wraps his thick hands under your knees, and yanks you towards him. You squeal, batting his hands away, but he’s quick to gather your torso in his arms and hoist you up and against his chest.

“You just want some lovin’s, don’t ya?” He asks, and when you don’t answer, he clicks his tongue and slowly rocks you both back and forth. “Just soooo blinded in your love and adoration for me that you can’t say that you needed me.”

"Shut up-"

"God forbid I do anything but cater to your every whim and need and desire!"

“You’re an ass,” you snicker.

He plants a kiss on your forehead with a smile, “it’s alright; I’ll always figure it out in the end, baby.”

And you just. Melt into him. It’s all you can do, this is all you’ve wanted all day, and now that you're completely enveloped in his arms, it's like every swimming thought you've had, and every insecurity about asking him for affection is stilled, and you're able to just focus on him, and his tight grip around you.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, love," he mumbles, nosing your temple. You nod and curl closer, letting the smell of clean laundry lull you at ease.

and of course he's not just going to let this lay. because atsumu is cocky and hes annoying and all he wants is for his baby to be confident in asking for him :(

but rather than trying to move on with his day, he's trying to coax you to be more comfortable in letting him know you want him. he does these big, dramatic leaps of what you could possibly want from him when you swat and tug at him. anything that'll make you feel safer in talking to him and expressing your needs.

because ultimately, thats all atsumu wants- you to feel safe :(

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sturnmad · 5 months

Text

nick sturniolo x ftm!reader

um i wrote this for @hbpr1nce . it was meant to be a short little fluffy drabble but spiraled into a 2.6k+ friends-to-lovers monstrosity. idk

be aware my writing style is very different than most sturniolo x reader authors on this app. i use second person & generally avoid the use of y/n (I'd rather use an oc name if absolutely necessary). it's also really like... plot-y? reader-centric? i didn't even mean for that to happen. honestly this feels like a prequel, i might write a sequel.

also i forgor the exact timeline of Nick's coming out so i just winged it lmao

summary: you're nick sturniolo's childhood friend, basically follows you realizing you're a trans man w nick supporting you the whole time, + ur eventual getting together. angst+fluff, no smut.

warnings: romantic nick x ftm!reader, transphobia, body image/self-esteem issues, I'm posting w minimal editing so beware, uhhh thats it i think?

Nick's always been your biggest supporter.

He's one of your first friends, because in 3rd grade he's the only one who stands up to the teacher when she tries to send you to the office for something you didn't do. You remember it distinctly: Nick literally red in the face from all the yelling, Matt trying to calm him down.

Nick doesn't remember it at all, but you do, and you've been his friend ever since.

He's the first to understand you, back when you thought you just hated everything about yourself. You hated your hair, so you cut it off. You hated your body, so you covered it up.

You hated your name, too, but there was no real solution to that.

It’s just so flowery, you'd complain with a wrinkled nose. So common. It didn't fit your face. Maybe that was why you avoided mirrors (it wasn't, but you didn't know that at the time either).

On what must be the thousandth time you complain of it, Nick rolls his eyes and says, “Just change it.”

“What?”

He waves a hand. “Just go by a nickname or something. Change it legally when you're older, if you want.”

Huh. For some reason that never occurred to you.

You cycle through a few nicknames, mostly just shortenings of your first and middle names, but none of those feel right either. Again, it's Nick that solves the issue, suggesting a few names until he lands on one that just… fits.

When you ask your other friends to call you by it, one of them asks, “Isn't that a boy’s name?”

He doesn't say it rudely or anything. You freeze anyway, because again, you didn't think about that, and again, Nick comes to your rescue. “It's gender neutral, dumbass,” he says good-naturedly. Your friend laughs and the moment passes by.

(You don’t notice, but Nick watches you closely from the corner of his eye. He looks like a theory was just confirmed.)

A few months after you change your name, you hear some kids talking in the hall about a trans student, saying—well. Nothing good.

Your hands go numb. Your stomach churns violently, and for the life of you, you can't figure out why. Obviously it’s shitty of them to say that, but high school is awful and you've overheard worse without freaking out over it.

You dismiss it as a freak coincidence.

Your anxiety gets worse, and quarantine doesn't help. Your parents are especially paranoid about the virus, so you barely leave your house.

There are up-sides, though. You talk with Nick almost every day now. Apparently his entire house burned down, so he's stuck in a tiny apartment with his parents and three brothers. He's fairing well, though, and he's one of your only friends who keeps in touch with you.

When he calls, he always uses the name you chose for yourself (or did he choose it?). These days, he’s the only one who does.

Nick comes out to you on a warm August afternoon.

“Holy shit,” you say. “I mean, that's great, man.” You wince. ‘Great’ doesn't seem like the right word to use there, but what else are you supposed to say? “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah.” You hear a sigh of relief, and your heart clenches at the thought that Nick would hold even a sliver of fear of your reaction. “Nate, Max—a few others… Matt and Chris don't know, yet.”

Your jaw drops. “What? You haven't told them?” Nick and his triplet brothers told each other almost everything. You figured they'd be first on the list.

You remembered, vaguely, a conversation where you asked Nick if he had any secrets from Matt and Chris. He'd hesitated before shaking his head.

Huh, you thought. ‘No secrets’, my ass.

“Yeah,” Nick said like he’d had this conversation before. “I don't know why. I know they'd be fine with it, obviously, but it's just… a lot of work, y’know? They might be weird about it. No, they definitely will be. That's almost worse.”

You frowned. Granted, you weren't as close with Matt and Chris as you were with Nick, but they'd never struck you as homophobic. And they'd always been close with Nick, closer than most siblings. You couldn't imagine them reacting negatively.

Still, you understood Nick’s nervousness. That was big news to drop. One way or another, everything would change.

“They might be a little weird about it,” you admitted. “But they'll get over it. Probably. Either way, you've gotta do it eventually so may as well get it over with, right?”

“Yeah.” The word was tinged with frustration. “I know. I'll do it soon. Probably.”

It's not a surprise when, on their next call, he announces he's done it. You congratulate him, and the two of you talk about life in general, though there aren't many updates. Your mind is elsewhere, and you think Nick senses it because you say your goodbyes a few minutes later.

In your mind, you turn it over and over again in your head. Nick is gay and he came out and everything is fine. Everyone is cool with it. And even though at this point you haven’t admitted anything to yourself—

Something inside you untenses.

***

When you see Nick in person for the first time in over a year, you almost double over in envy.

It comes from nowhere. It completely blindsides you. He steps into the cafeteria with Matt and Chris by his side and you're suddenly so jealous you could puke.

He just looks really good, actually smiling and happy and tall. That's the only reason you're jealous, you decide, as Chris nearly shoves Nick into a table. Nick had a glow-up but quarantine only made you uglier, inside and out. Of course you'd be jealous.

To your surprise, Nick singles you out first out of all his friends. “Hey.” He smiles. It's a gentle smile, and he looks so happy and good and—did you mention he’s tall? At least taller than you, though that's not saying much. You're short enough that you almost never get mistaken for a boy, and when you do, it’s usually because of your short hair.

But you and Nick have the same hair length.

Huh. Same hair, similar style (yours perhaps even more ‘masculine’ than his), but no one ever mistakes you for a man after they see your face or hear your voice. Your stomach twists in envy again at the thought, this time with a distinct undercurrent of self-loathing.

If I looked like you…

(I probably wouldn't hate myself so much.)

It's just because Nick looks so good, though.

***

It's a snowball effect after that.

It's like Nick coming out put the concept on transness on your radar. You find yourself reading articles about it late at night. Just out of curiosity, you tell yourself.

But being trans would explain a lot about you. Almost everything, really.

One night you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. That's something you don't usually do. You don't like your body. You don't like your face. And for the first time, you're thinking:

Why? What don't I like about it?

The fat on your stomach. The fat around your waist. Your mom always says you have “child-bearing” hips, a comment that never fails to disgust you.

Your chest. You hate when people comment on it or acknowledged its existence at all. Bra shopping is a nightmare and necessary evil. Do most women feel like that?

Maybe. You doubt it.

You go by a man's name.

You wear men's clothes.

You look like a man…almost. From certain angles.

You want to look like a man.

That’s true. You do.

In here, at least, you can finally admit something. Only to yourself, and only for now, and only partially.

But you're maybe, kind of, at least 80% sure you're trans.

Fuck, you think. I'm screwed.

***

You come out to Nick in a McDonald's parking lot. It's oddly fitting.

Usually, you wouldn't do it all in one go. You'd test the waters first. Mention trans people in passing and see how the other person reacts. Maybe say a few things like ‘sometimes I just wish I was a guy, y'know?’

With most of your other friends, you could get away with that. They may be confused, they may side-eye you, but they wouldn't understand and they wouldn't confront you about it.

Nick isn't like that. He'd know, even if he didn't say anything. Better to just rip the bandaid off.

You wait until the others leave the car to pick up their orders. You and Nick stay behind like you always do.

You suck in a breath. Talking to Nick has always been easy. He's loud, you're loud—you accommodate, build off of each other. The silence feels unnatural in comparison to your usual easy banter.

“I think, um—” Your voice cracks and you cough. A strong start. You had a script but you're forgetting it. “I think I'm… probably not a woman.”

That's it. That's the closest you've gotten—that's all you know. ‘Probably not a woman’. Probably a man, but hey, there were other possibilities, and you just figured this out a few weeks ago so give yourself a break.

Nick is silent a second too long. You start to panic. “Like, I think I'm trans.” Your voice goes up at the end like it's a question.

It's not. You're certain. You made sure you were certain long before you came out.

“Thank you for telling me,” Nick says awkwardly. You nearly laugh; his floundering is oddly soothing. “Do the others—”

“No.” You shake your head. “No one else knows.”

“Oh, wow. Um… how long have you known?”

You think for a moment. “I guess I always have, even if I didn't have the words for it. But I didn't know for sure until a few weeks ago.”

“So… do you have a name picked out?”

You stare at him, confused. You can see the others exiting McDonald’s in the background. “What?”

“I mean,” Nick backpedals, puts up his hands like he's offended you, “Most trans people change their name, and no offense, but you don't don't really have a guy’s name, so I was just wondering—”

“I do, though,” you say. “The nickname you gave me.”

Nick says nothing, just sort of stares at you, and for some reason your face grows hot.

(He really does look good, you think, and wow this is such an inappropriate time to be having that thought.)

Then the others bang on the windows and demand to be let in, and the moment is ruined.

***

It gets worse before it gets better.

You decide not to come out to your parents until you absolutely have to. You do, however, come out to the rest of the friend group, and they're mostly accepting.

But it's not like you press a button and become a man overnight. Word gets around, and though no one says anything to your face, you hear them laugh behind your back. Some of your teachers who had been fine calling you by your nickname beforehand refuse to use it anymore.

You don't let it get to you. You give as good as you get. Still, as always, Nick is your biggest supporter. You don't know what you'd do without him.

***

You stay friends, but you fall out of touch.

It happens. You still text on birthdays, still congratulate him on his channel, still send each other memes on Instagram, but one day you blink and realize you haven't actually seen him in almost a year.

You've been busy. You have your own life, your own friends, but Nick is your best and oldest one. Always has been, and you're hoping always will be. So of course you text “hey, next time you're in Boston we should hang out or smth” and of course he agrees.

You suggest McDonald's, just for old time's sake, but Nick insists you go to an actual restaurant. He picks a more expensive one, and as you're trying to work out a polite way to say “thanks, but I'm way too poor for that”, he texts:

NICK: my treat btw

YOU: nah man you don't have to

YOU: but we might have to go somewhere cheaper sorry

NICK: it’s fine. i'll pay. i probs owe u hundreds from hs still lmao

YOU: true true

YOU: if you're sure

Nick never answers, which you assume means ‘yes’.

You show up almost half an hour early. You brought your wallet and you're prepared to put up a valiant fight for your fair share of the bill, bank account be damned.

You’re also anxious like you havent been since high school, probably. You don't know why. Nick's your friend, after all, even if you've drifted apart a bit. There's nothing to be anxious about.

Nick shows up ten minutes early.

Huh, you think, and then stop thinking.

At least you weren't completely blindsided this time. You knew what Nick looked like from his channel and his Insta, but he’s… different in person.

He’s even better. You don't think you're ugly (not anymore, at least), but you're no supermodel. Nick is, or he could be, definitely.

He hugs you, and when he leans back he looks you up and down and frowns. “You grew.”

You shrug. “Side effect of testosterone.”

“That makes you grow?”

“It can if you start it before twenty.” Your face grows hot. Here Nick is, some airbrushed God, and you're going through second puberty. You have acne. You have the little shitty mustache you used to mock boys for.

You have gained a few inches, though. Now you're about level with Nick’s chin instead of his chest. Makes hugs a bit more awkward.

Nick is still frowning at you. “Are these a side effect, too?” He squeezes your bicep before stepping back.

Your face burns even hotter. “Sort of. I work out.” You flex on instinct, and you swear Nick’s eyes follow the movement with just a little too much heat.

You must be hallucinating.

You expect the dinner to be awkward. And it is, at first, until Nick clears his throat and says, “I have a confession to make.”

You eye him warily. He seems serious. “What is it?”

Nick fidgets, avoiding your eyes. “You know the name I gave you?”

“Yeah?”

“The one that's now your legal name?”

“What about it?”

Nick covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders shake with silent laughter. “It—” He wheezes. “It was my cousin’s pet turtle’s name!”

You gape.

And just like that, it's like nothing ever changed.

You burst into laughter. “I can't believe it,” you hiss. “And you never told me?”

“I was just listing off names I knew,” he says apologetically. “It could've been worse. You could've been named after my cousin.”

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands. “Is that why Matt and Chris looked at me so weird when I told them?”

Nick starts laughing again. “Yeah. I'm sorry, man.”

You uncover your face and sigh, shaking your head. “Where are they, anyways?” You ask. “I thought they'd come with you.” Though now that you thought about it, Nick never said ‘we’ in his texts, only ‘I’. Huh.

“They wanted to say hi,” Nick says apologetically. “I made them stay home.”

“Why?”

To your surprise, Nick goes red.

It all clicks into place. The fancy restaurant. Nick’s insistence on paying. The fucking bicep squeeze.

You smile and lean forward. “Nick Sturniolo,” you say. “Is this a date?”

Nick, to his credit, recovers quickly. “If you want it to be,” he says softly. He actually meets your eyes and everything.

You meet his, too.

“I do.”

#nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x male!reader #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo x ftm!reader

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mitsies · 1 year

Text

-;. bachira meguru as your boyfriend!

; fluff headcanons, wc: 1.3k ; warnings: a lil hurt/comfort but not much! ; author's notes: i love u bachira fr + lmk who u want to see hcs with next!

‣ bachira meguru is OBSESSED with you ‣ from the moment he met you, he knew he wanted to be close to you ‣ so he made it happen! ‣ he spoke to you as often as he could, whether it be texting or calling or in person ‣ he is infatuated with everything you do fr ‣ like, u could hiccup on a call, and bachira will be giggling and kicking his feet like 'teehee my s/o hiccupped' ‣ he gets SO GIGGLY when u do anything like ‣ if you guys are on a walk and u purposefully bump his shoulder he's fr twirling his hair and giggling like a schoolgirl ‣ his love language is 100000% physical touch ‣ and he's not shy about it, not even at the start of your relationship ‣ he's always got to be close to you

‣ holding hands & swingin them while you walk kinda thing ‣ he's into playful, fleeting touches ‣ the type to randomly pepper u with kisses ‣ he also bites???? like not in a hostile or sexual way it just ‣ he likes u sm so he bites u ‣ just.. chomp! every now and then ‣ he loves loves loves seeing you ‣ when he does he calls your name and literally SPRINTS his ass out to wherever you are and gives u the biggest hug ever <3

you jump at the sound of a familiar voice calling out your name. whipping around, you see a blur of black and yellow hair hurtling toward you at the speed of light.

before you know it, you're pulled into a tight hug, stumbling back a few paces as you laugh into bachira's hair. you wrap your arms around his head like you're trying to keep him there, grinning into the crook of your neck.

when he finally pulls away, arms still trailing on your waist. his eyes glitter with affection as they look into yours. "i missed you."

you smile. "you saw me yesterday."

bachira shoots you another starry smile and shrugs animatedly: "felt like sooo much longer without you, y'know!"

your heart flutters in your chest and you press your face into his collarbone briefly, before you pull away. his hand finds its place in your own- it fits like it was made for you.

"so," he says, "what are we doing today?"

"ice cream on the pier?"

"you know me so well!"

‣ and for dates: bachira isn't big on casual dates ‣ however, there's this ice cream shop that you're both regulars at! ‣ at least once a week, usually more, in the evenings the two of you meet to grab something sweet and just chill ‣ the two of you sit with your feet swinging off the edge above the water ‣ you each have a new flavor because the place has a rotating menu- you take turns chattering & letting each other try spoonfuls of your ice cream ‣ because of the nature of blue lock & his life path, he's busier than he'd like to be ‣ but trust that he is ALWAYSSSS messaging you ‣ man never leaves u alone ‣ like actually ‣ he ABUSES the 'notify anyway' option when you're on do not disturb ‣ calls you at stupid late hours of night just to prattle on about some stuff that doesn't matter ‣ he's a talker- he loves loves loves speaking with you ‣ his favorite thing about talking to you specifically is that you really seem to listen ‣ his friends nod their heads and play along but they don't get it ‣ you do, and you care- that's one of many things he loves about you ‣ bachira doesn't tell you he loves you often, even though he does ‣ he's got some deep-seated issues highkey LMFAO ‣ you always know he does, though ! it shines through in his little actions and the phrases of adoration he tells you ‣ all his friends/teammates know how much he loves you too ‣ like i said he is OBSESSED ‣ and he lets everyone know ‣ you send him a picture of you doing the most mundane thing? he's shoving his phone in isagi's face saying 'look how cute they are! look! now! here! you're not looking!' ‣ EVERYYYYONEEE is sick of him ‣ 'yes bachira we get it' ‣ but he KEEPS doing it ‣ (his friends are only mildly annoyed- they know how happy u make him so they don't care too much :,) ) ‣ when you're upset: bachira isn't much help ‣ he doesn't really know what to do with your feelings and he's not sure how to help ‣ he really, really wants to but he's at a loss ‣ so he just sits next to you and lets you cling on to him if that's what you want ‣ he'd stay there for as long as you want him, and if it helps, he'll talk to you about inane things that don't matter ‣ he'll talk about the weather and his games today, about isagi and rin's antics, about how dolphins are really good animals, anything that might take your mind off it ‣ he is! perfect! ‣ actually i take it back because ‣ if we're talking domesticity: this man is the best/worst roommate you'll have ‣ does the dishes only if you nag ‣ walks around (almost) naked because he doesn't really care LMFAO ‣ and worst of all he sticks to you like GLUE

"meguru," you scold, "we've gotta go. we're gonna be late."

"but you have to change," he wheedles, arms tethered around your neck as he lets his weight drop to the floor, pulling you down with him.

"and why is that a problem?"

"if you change, then you won't want to come back to bed!"

"yeah. that's the point."

"5 more minutes?" you're basically dragging him along the floor like a mop at this point. you'd kick him if you weren't in love with him.

"bachira meguru." you kick him anyways. he sprawls across the floors like a puddle of water, glaring up at you.

"fine," he sighs, pushing himself up, "fine, fine, fine!"

you extend a hand to pull him up. "c'mon, it'd be rude to be late to kunigami's birthday dinner."

he takes your hand, but tugs sharply- you tumble down onto the bedroom floor on top of him with a huff of air rushing out of your lungs.

"meguru!" he laughs and snakes an arm around you.

"i'm sure kunigami won't mind!"

‣ don't even get me STARTEDDDD on how this guy sleeps. ‣ he fr takes the WHOLE BED ‣ his arms are splayed out in every way possible, his legs too- absolutely starfished as far as he can go ‣ and he's a mfing blanket hog too. ‣ this piece of GARBAGE ‣ you'll have to get your own, but only pull it out once he's asleep- otherwise, he'll take that too ‣ big on c*ddling with you though ‣ he's gotta be touching you in SOME way ‣ typically one of you sleeps with your head on the other's chest, and you swap between positions every so often ‣ he likes it when you mess with his hair <3 ‣ try to put it in braids or pigtails and he'll fall in love ‣ will request you do that regularly LMFAO ‣ this becomes a kind of ritual- on quiet mornings, you'll sit on the edge of your shared bed and he'll be right below you ‣ you brush through his hair and deftly put little braids into it, before sweeping it into whatever style he decides ‣ it's the quiet mornings he shares with you that his love really shines thru- because he can talk to anyone, but it takes a lot of trust for him to let his guard down and be quiet ‣ anyways <3 bachira meguru u are the love of my life!

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bachira meguru x reader #bachira x reader #meguru bachira x reader #bachira meguru #meguru bachira #bllk #bllk x reader #reader insert

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itoshi-s · 1 year

Text

──✧ ˚ · “ 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝

ft. 𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 / mentions of sae itoshi

*.✧ rin isn't at all surprised to see sae has brought you along to the family event. what startles him instead is how hard it is to contain his urges.

*.✧ wc: 6k. cw: nsfw/suggestive, fem reader, pining, angst, mentions of mental health issues & therapy, mentions of injuries, foul language. all characters are in their mid 20's. the itoshis are pro players. reader has a backstory. // notes: biggest thank you to my beloved river for beta reading, it wouldn’t of have gotten out without you 🤍

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ.

There��s something odd hanging heavy in the air – humid and thick as Rin steps out from the airport terminal, suitcase clattering loudly on the sidewalk.

Maybe it’s still the annoyance that’s pooling deep in his gut, caused by the encounter that took place barely minutes ago – a group of fans recognizing him and the few other players in line to border control.

He’s thankful, he really is, but not in moments like these.

Not when the discoloration under his eyes could be seen from miles away, and yet, it must seem like he’s less of a human as people just keep on yapping. Talking, grabbing – asking if it’s okay to take a picture. Commenting on a recent goal, congratulating. It was only this annoying because there was Shidou and a few other players right beside him, and yet, everyone seemed desperate only for a smidge of his attention, toppling him over with inquiries and requests and appreciative words.

It's only natural he's always the one in the spotlight – the team captain with an aloof aura to contradict his status. But there is something even more alluring to him, and it's probably the way he still manages to crack a slight smile at one of Ryusei's comments as they move down the line; a small action that's gotten recorded anyway, he's noticed, and he's sure it'll be all over Twitter within an hour or two, considering it's still a rare occasion to see him loosen up.

It's puzzling to some still – the complexity of Paris X Gen's highest grossing player. It's confusing but intriguing, how his presence is dangerous enough to keep him marked by the other team at all times, and yet, they seem absolutely petrified at the thought of going one-on-one with him. It's a wonder how he appears to be just as intimidating outside the field, eyes sharp and stance tall, but on his good days, he can give a young fan the softest smile possible. It's a whiplash – but he never called himself easy to be around. No one ever really did.

That's what brought him to the very top.

A heavy sigh slips past his lips, fingers tugging the corduroy jacket to cover more of his tee clad chest, and puts a hand up as his designated driver slows down by the entrance. As the vehicle stops and the man gets out to open the trunk, Rin holds back a sigh to see it's not the usual driver that meets him during most of his flights. (It's not because he's pretentious. He just really, really doesn't want to talk tonight anymore. And he knows the usual would've picked up on that. Now, he's not sure.)

He hands his suitcase over to get it into the trunk, then moves to the backseat of the car, hoping for a quiet ride.

It’s nearing midnight, the flight having been postponed due to some issues that he just couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, and it seems like it’s enough of a reason to keep the driver silent. That, and probably the exhaustion written all over his face, teal eyes zoning out the window and teeth nibbling on chapped lips.

He’s back home now, a thoughtful gift for his parents sitting in his suitcase, but there’s no place for nostalgia or relief in his heart. Instead, it fills with dread at the thought of seeing a mess of auburn hair and a pair of turquoise eyes, mirroring his own – no matter how much he resents it.

If it was all up to him, he’d pretend Sae was never part of their family – act like they had never met, like the elder had never broken his dreams and stained his teenage heart with dread. It’s been what – eight years? Almost a decade, it seems, and a few therapy attempts ago, but even though Rin has found his own self, his very own objective and a goal that isn’t dictated by Sae anymore, the thought of his brother still makes him uneasy at best.

He wishes he didn’t see the longing in his mother’s eyes, how she cannot stand to see her sons treat each other as if they were air. There wasn’t much either of their parents could do to bring the brothers back on the right track and it seemed like they knew – could see it in the way the younger tensed up, seeing a suitcase by the front door and an additional pair of shoes on the mat.

There was no way to save them, not back then, and not now.

A screech of the driver slamming the brakes brings Rin back from the train of thoughts, safety belt digging into his chest as he jolts forward a bit. He looks through the windscreen, watches as the car that cut in front of them maneuvers sloppily, and the driver shakes his head.

“People really are going crazy this time of the year,” he mumbles, and their eyes momentarily meet through the rear view mirror.

It’s a bit awkward, the way silence falls over the vehicle quickly after, but honestly Rin doesn’t mind that much. He knows he comes off aloof, too proud to engage in small talk. It’s a bit of a lifesaver now, when it’s getting hard to keep his eyes open anymore.

He hums in agreement and shifts in his seat, long legs spreading out and forward. Carefully, he rolls his ankle, the strain making his brows furrow as a breath hitches deep in his chest. He rests the heel of his foot back down and closes his eyes. It hurts, but he can’t tell whether it’s still the sprained joint or his pride.

The driver seems to catch up on the striker’s discomfort and quickly leans over, pulling the passenger seat forward to make more space. “There, Itoshi-san. It’ll be a bit of a long drive, so make yourself comfy.” He smiles, a little uneasy still, but as Rin stretches his legs out and gives a small mumble of thank you, he takes it as an incentive.

“That last goal was out of this world, honestly– I hope you don’t mind.”

The man sounds sincere, taps his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. Rin keeps his eyes forward, on the car in front of them.

“Some say this was the season’s best goal, and I agree.”

A tight smile pulls on the athlete’s lips. Yeah, he’s heard it, too. Heard all the praise, accompanied by pitiful and worried looks as he limped off the field – hoping, praying the camera doesn’t pick up on the seething look in his eyes.

This could’ve happened to anyone, and honestly, it wasn’t even that big of a deal if you looked at it objectively. It’s a light injury, and he might even consider himself lucky it happened on the last match before Christmas break. He’ll have his time off, spend it with family and friends, and go to his physio appointments without any disturbance. (And get his ear talked off, probably. Because as breathtaking this goal was, he had to push the throbbing pain in his joint aside, force his foot into the awkward angle and feel, hear the crunch of the bone as he sent the ball into the net. It was everything that their physio team told them to refrain from.)

By the time the season restarts, he’ll be as good as new.

But if there’s one thing Sae engraved into his mind, is that he hates pity and resents vulnerability. He wants to smack the medical team away as they work on his ankle, swollen and reddening within seconds as they tighten the bandage around it, pressing ice bags to the aching joint.

This can happen to anybody – anyone but him, it is.

To react to it so passionately isn't anything unordinary – but it's everything that's unlike him.

“Thank you,” Rin simply says and settles on that being his final reply. He doesn’t want to dig deeper into any of it, to continue with the topic that he’s pretty sure everyone already knows is a minefield.

The man behind the steering wheel seems to catch up on the subtle sign and just gives a slight smile.

Rin shudders at the way pity floods the vehicle, taunts him and makes the tight loop around his heart pull. He hates this, but there’s not much that’s left to do about it besides biting back on his tongue and leaning back into the seat.

It’s peaceful for the rest of the hour-long drive. Starry skies invite him to look out the window, gaze growing unfocused with exhaustion and thoughts that race through his mind with the speed of light.

He wishes there was a way to silence that, tune out the whispers and taunting like the driver did to the radio upon noticing the striker’s tired look.

His therapist said it’ll take some time – long hours spent dwelling over his notepad, trying to reach inside to grasp his ego and the issues that burn at it the most, only to scribble them down on the paper and try to voice them out in the office a few days later. He’s never been good with communication or speaking his mind, at least not in the conventional way that won’t leave the recipient in tears or shock; but, hey, his therapist did say that he’s seen worse. Rin wonders if he was being honest about it, but then finds himself realizing that this is exactly the same route of thought that he’s supposed to watch out for. He knew these words would seep into every crevice of his mind, sit heavy on his heart, and that's why the therapy was abruptly cut short – cause he couldn't, didn't want to hear any of it anymore.

Not everyone has ill intentions, Rin. As long as you’re hung up on what he did to you, you’ll have a hard time trusting others. And I know you don't want to admit it – but you need it.

The car comes to a stop right by the curb. Warm, yellowish light seeps through the familiar windows and hits the sidewalk.

Rin blinks once, pulled from his thoughts.

“There you go.” The driver glances at him over his shoulder and unbuckles himself, about to help him with his suitcase but is stopped by a wave of Rin’s hand.

“S’okay. Thank you.”

He hums and fishes for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a bill and places it in the man’s hand, undoing his seat belt and opening the door, ignoring the small sound of protest – probably caused by the tip he’s just left.

Rin gets out of the vehicle, careful as he shifts his weight to the wounded ankle, and takes his suitcase out from the trunk. There’s a harsh thud as the wheels hit the ground and a complimenting soft puff, heavy scent of smoke filling his lungs. He glances up at the elderly man, who now stands by the driver’s door and takes a drag of his cigarette.

No matter what he does, how much he tries, he’ll always be watched – a pair of eyes trained on him at all times, whether it’s at the field or on the streets.

He holds the eye contact, waits for the man to speak. It comes with an exhale, a cloud of white reaching him from across the car –

“Good night, Itoshi-san.”

– a pause.

And then, Rin feels his eye twitch, has to hold back a snarl.

“Get well soon.”

Cold breeze seeps under his jacket, bites at the cotton-clad skin and sends shivers down his back, aching and slightly hunched. It’s a contrast to the bubbling, stinging bitterness that spills over his insides.

He bites his tongue and tastes iron.

Then, he gives a small nod before turning on his heel and stepping away, heading towards where he can faintly make out his mother's voice from the other side of the mahogany door.

Oh, how he craves to believe it – the warm smiles sent his way, earnest wishes spoken with nothing but pure intentions – but he doesn’t know how.

And won't anytime soon.

By the time Rin's suitcase is put down by the bed in his old bedroom and he's clad in a set of hoodie and sweatpants, sat down at the dining table and slurping up the last sips of miso soup, the uneasy feeling is nowhere to be found anymore.

(Or at least, he's succeeded in pushing it to the very back of his mind, until it's barely a hushed hum.)

His mum insists on hearing about everything that took place throughout the last few months he's spent back in Paris – but to be fair, there's not much to tell her, Rin realizes. He's signed a couple new brand deals, yeah, and got a proposition from another prestige club – this time over in England, but it wasn't anywhere near the salary that he had his eye on. But that's about it, and there's not much gossip he could indulge his mother in – even though he knows she wishes there was. (She's always been playful with him – both of his parents were, actually. They know it riles their second-born up, but know it's sportive – and that he doesn't really mind. Not if it's them, that is.)

"I thought you'd surprise us with something, Rin." His mum quips, taking the bowl from his hands to wash up.

From his seat across the table, his dad breathes out a laugh.

"There's been enough surprises this year already, though, don't you think?"

Ah.

Teal eyes follow his father's, to where he gives his wife a look. The woman turns around, a cloth in hand as she dries off a cutting board, and there's a bit of confusion before her whole face lights up–

"Now that will be hard to top!" Another laugh, leaving him the only unamused one in the room. "Oh, god. I still cannot believe it." She sounds excited, very much so that it leaves a bitter taste on Rin's tongue, enough to sour his mood and brew the uneasy feeling deep in his stomach all over again.

He knew, fuck of course he knew there was no escaping it – and yet, he was still gullible enough to hope that the holidays would pass without him hearing any of it.

"I can't wait until Sae comes and tells us all about it. You know how he is through the phone, couldn't get a proper word out of him, but I need to know everything."

He really tries to fight back the furrow of his brows, for his mother's sake. It's only natural she's excited, a spark in his eyes that he remembers seeing only on the most special occasions. Him getting into Blue Lock, then being selected for the U-20 national team. Him having to move overseas, signing a contract that stuck millions to his name.

(He vaguely recalls the same look plastered on her face when she received the call from Sae's manager, back when they were kids – the call that would be the beginning of their downfall. Of course he remembers. But, since there's discomfort already eating away at his chest, he decides to ignore the memory instead.)

It's self-explanatory that she has the same, bright grin spread over her features, when she speaks about her oldest son's engagement.

Sae is engaged – soon to be married.

Sae, the last person he'd ever think is capable of love.

Sae, who's so harsh and focused on himself, who he's seen disregard every little speck of affection thrown his way for years.

And fuck does it sound unbelievable – until there's a certain face flashing in the front of his mind, a pair of bright eyes and a pretty sweet smile that's enough to make his palms clammy. Until he remembers about the only person that could melt anyone's heart – even his brother's.

Even his o–

He only ever realizes he'd zoned out again when an engine roars softly outside the house, then cuts off promptly. There's a sequence of car doors shutting, quiet talking, a trunk being opened.

"Oh! They're here!"

Rin's eyes follow his mother as she glances out the kitchen window and tosses the rag down on the counter, jogging over to the front door as the voices grow closer. His dad gets up from his seat as well, much less energetic, but there's a smile on his lips that mirrors his wife's and in that moment, he feels out of place. It doesn't fit, the uneasy jitter in his chest that's such a harsh contrast to the warmth that his parents are about to engulf you and Sae in.

The difference to what he's feeling compared to them is like nails on chalkboard, he thinks – and the second he sees the agonizingly familiar head of red hair enter his vision, he shudders as if the sharp sound really resonates through the room.

He might not be hearing it, but he's seeing a contrast even worse. Sae, in his black sweatpants and a Real Madrid hoodie, with a look at his face that's so well rested, it's unlike anything he's seen on him lately; and standing right by his side is you. Rin notices you're too engrossed in tugging your suitcase inside and welcoming his parents, and so, he uses the moment to roll his eyes up your body - the Ugg slippers, beige leggings, a white zip up fitness jacket and finally, your face.

It's a divergence that makes him uneasy. The devil himself, looking far too comfortable with an angel right by his side, with a parallel smile.

There's not even one reason for you not to be this joyful, but Rin selfishly wishes there was. He wishes that you didn't have to look this happy, standing next to the very same person behind everything miserable in his life. He wishes he understood and that he could cut through the dissonance that sits heavy in his head – but it's been years, and he still hasn't found a way to do it.

He only ever realizes he's still stuck in his seat when his father's eyes meet his own from a few feet away. It's not judging per se, more so urging him on to at least pretend, for his mother's sake. He reads right through it.

Rin exhales shortly, pushes his chair back with a sound that brings your conversation to a halt. He feels like the martyr when he steps closer to where everyone is standing, feels four pairs of eyes watching him and it makes him want to roll his eyes.

Sae's the first to force a smile and only give a jerk of his head. Rin wouldn't expect any more of him.

"Hey, Rin." He hums, rubbing the back of his neck. "S'been a while."

A small nod, then a shrug as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants.

"It has." He cranes his neck slightly, an involuntary mirror to his brother's own attempt at soothing the strain.

He ignores the way their mum winces at the tension that resonates between the two, how it's thick enough to suffocate everyone and make them shudder with unease. But no matter how earnest his attempts are, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot bewitch the reality, and the realization comes in a soft hum, warm and sticky-sweet as it resonates.

You're here too, after all. A savior of sorts.

"A while too long," The smile you offer him makes Rin want to scream. His chest swells unconsciously and his gaze softens, almost instinctively when his eyes drink up your mellow expression. "It's been a year for sure."

It must be a joke, Rin thinks, how someone that could make any chaos subside with just a couple words and a gentle smile stays glued by the hip with a person that only needs a single look to make the world crumble all over again.

(A joke, or perhaps, a perfectly complete puzzle that keeps the universe intact. But he doesn't want it to be that way.)

Just when his father gives a slight chuckle, reaches a hand to pat your back and gives a reassuring rub to your shoulder, Sae clears his throat. With one hand reaching for the suitcase's handle, he maneuvers it down, as if in thought.

"Yep. Even longer than that, maybe." He wonders, "And– oh, look at that. Will you ever see each other when in full health?" It's patronizing, it's demeaning, it's anything but just a playful quip of one brother to another, and it makes Rin's eye twitch.

He opens his mouth to speak, "Will you shu–"

But before he can finish, you inhale sharply and cut in.

"Oi, oi," you roll your eyes, giving Sae's arm a light smack. "You're being mean. Stop." There's a glint of something in your eyes when you give your fiance a look and Rin's not entirely sure what it is, but he watches in astonishment when it shuts the elder up. You turn your head his way again.

You offer him a smile, a bit meek and unsure considering the jab Sae's made seconds earlier. "It's healing well, I hope?" You ask, sincere and sweet just like always, and spare his ankle just a short glance before you open your arms for a welcome embrace. "Hi, Rin."

It's hard for him to wrap his mind around how you're so sympathetic, so understanding and warm while seemingly not even trying. He wonders if it's why you chose this career path over any other, and knows for sure that it's why you're the best at it. You never insist, never push, never inquire - not unless you need to, with the referee's whistle ringing in your ears and a handful of sweaty, loud men standing right over your head as you work your magic.

It's no wonder every club wants you as their physio.

Rin's gotten a chance to feel your hand expertly move along his own limbs before. He remembers it clearly as a day, even though he's gone down on the field a hundred times already and it was seemingly just yet another one. But this time, this game, it was different. It was bizarre and unlike anything that's happened to him before.

First of all, his adrenaline has never spiked as high as when it was Real Madrid that Paris X Gen had to go against. It only ever took so much of him to ease his nerves and quiet down the screaming in his head when it was Sae that he had to try and steal the ball from. It was the one and only game that everybody knew was worthwhile – a guaranteed showcase of talent and hard work, a fiend between two brothers, both equally gifted.The pressure would be enough to knock anyone off their feet, but he could withstand it. He had no other choice.

Secondly, Rin's never seen a situation so absurd and unfortunate. Throughout his years as a professional, he was an eye witness to many fouls and injuries, some more gruesome and fatal than others. But to have three players go down at the same time, two of them from the same team, didn’t happen all too often. It was his teammate’s fault and Rin knew, but wouldn’t dare to scold him – not when he’s laying on the turf and gripping his knee tight, the joint stuck at an angle that has Rin wincing and shuddering. It’s bad, so, so bad, it’s insane, he thinks, watching as the other player struggles to get up with his teammates’ help. It’s chaotic, paramedics jogging over to them and putting down all of their necessities and there’s so much of it, there’s barely any space between him and the other player anymore. Both teams grow loud and erratic, shouting and reproaching wild and belligerent. Rin’s eyes follow the ref as he works on subsiding the uproar. It’s a hard job to do and he knows it, but doesn’t want to spare any more thoughts – not when he has a worry of his own, a sharp pain in his ankle that makes him nauseous.

“Are you okay?”

He hears a familiar voice, a soft tune that brings him back afloat. His heart hammers in his chest, adrenaline high and hot in his veins as he props himself up, hand tight on his sprained joint. He looks up and meets your eyes, wide but focused as your line of sight reaches his ankle.

“I–” Rin hesitates, eyes slightly bewildered as they follow your movements. You crouch down right next to him, pull out a few necessary items from the med kit. An ice pack, he recognizes, a bandage, a stabilizer– “I’m not sure, it might just be a stamp.”

You hum, teeth sunk in your bottom lip as you carefully peel the sock down to reveal the bruised flesh. “Pain? On a scale of one to ten?” You spare him a quick look, delicate fingers gently pressing along the swollen skin.

Rin grunts, fights back the urge to pull his leg away. “Six.”

With a nod, you work on untying his shoe, pulling it down along with the sock, “Sprained.” You simply point out, and his eyes widen. Your judgment’s quick, scarily so, and he’d hope that maybe you’re wrong - but the certainty in your eyes tells him enough. He’s never seen you this serious, gaze sharp and movements swift, but then again, it’s the very first time he sees you at work. So far, he’s only ever seen you hanging on Sae’s arm, all smiles and laughter as you attend a family event together.

To have Sae’s girl tend to him like that almost feels like a blow.

“Wait, shit–” Rin’s brows furrow as he shifts, and you give him an attentive look. “Hold on. Aren’t you supposed to–”

“Your team’s busy.” You interrupt, eliciting a hiss from the striker as you work the bandage around the sole of his feet, and then stabilize it around his ankle. “He’s got a concussion and misses a tooth or two. All on top of his kneecap popping out.” Rin stiffens, eyes involuntarily searching for his teammate. He sees him being handled onto the stretcher, holding his hands over his head, groans and cries reaching his ears and it makes his heart drop.

You plop the icepack on top of his ankle and bring his focus back to you. “I don’t care who I’m with. I’m here to help.” You offer a small smile, heartening even though you’re pretty sure it won’t give much reassurance. You know your boyfriend’s brother, heard all about him and encountered him numerous times before. Most of all, you’ve seen the burning passion behind his eyes as he steps onto the turf. He’s not backing down. “I’m sorry, Rin, but you’re off.”

Rin vaguely remembers the protest that rose deep within his chest, making his blood boil as you helped him up. He knew better than to stand his ground and try to pretend that it’s not a big deal, knew all the possible consequences far too well to act so childish and stubborn. He remembers the worried expression flashing across your features as your eyes met upon him plopping down on the bench. He saw it all, the compassion with pity yet to be seen. But it never came.

You only left him with a heartfelt look, warm and kind, and confusion blossoming in his chest, growing on top of the inquiry and anger.

You’re always like this, Rin realizes. Always so collected and warmhearted, only ever welcoming him with hospitality and genuine worry, and never with pity. You’ve never given him any sort of look that he’s known to despise.

He wishes you could be this way with him only, so attentive and sweet. But he knows you’re not and never will be. He knows the only reason you ever rushed over to him, despite being the rival team’s assigned physiotherapist, was because how awfully big your heart is, aching to help and bring comfort.

It’s got nothing to do with him, and he cannot force it.

The memory vaguely plays out in his mind as he inhales your scent, the irritation subsiding and making way for the annoyingly fuzzy feeling. It’s been a year or even more. Long months since he’s last seen you and since you became engraved deep into his mind, his source of all kinds of thrills.

Throughout the years you’ve been with Sae, he never even thought to spare you a second glance. But ever since you treated him so kindly, looked at him with such warmth, he selfishly wishes he was the one giving you the Itoshi name instead.

He wraps his arms around your frame and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, (Y/N)."

It's only good decorum to greet you properly like this, and he knows it shouldn't be anything more than that, but as he gets an inhale of your perfume, he knows it's all but a convention.

Your hand rests on his back, fingers flexing on the sturdy muscle a bit, before pulling away entirely. You beam up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as your head tilts with a smile. For a second, Rin thinks you might want to say something else, tell him more - but you opt not to, and instead, turn to face his brother again. "I'll put these away," You say, reaching for his suitcase. "And hop in the shower. I stink like the airport."

The way you scrunch your nose makes Rin's mouth twitch with a ghost of a smile.

"Sure," Sae shrugs a bit and hands you off the luggage, but only after he leans in to give your lips a quick peck. "I'll grab you a snack later. 'Kay?"

"M'kay," you give a breathy giggle at the action, and Rin realizes he might be far behind in being familiar with the ridiculous ways you've changed his brother.

Because this look, lovesick and full of adoration even despite the sleep throwing a heavy daze over his turquoise eyes, is one that he's never seen on his older brother before.

His mom offers to remind you as to where Sae's old room as well as the bathroom are, ushers you off with a few gentle touches and laughter that disappears down the corridor. His dad leaves to boil the kettle to make some tea, and for barely a few beats of silence, it's just the two of them standing there, in front of each other, one craning his head slightly upwards, the other glaring down.

Rin hates it, hates the way he has to swallow thick and tear his gaze away. Taking the higher ground, he only makes a slight face, then turns on his heel to leave to his room instead.

When his dad returns to the conjoined area, balancing three mugs in one hand and holding up the full pot in the other, he doesn't seem all that surprised to see just Sae standing there, pulling his hoodie off and throwing it over the chair silently.

The man sighs anyways, setting down the dishes, and only looks up when Sae breathes out a laugh.

"Just like the old times."

Rin is not sure how long he's been scrolling down his phone, or how much time has passed since he first plopped down on the king sized bed in his old bedroom. But sleep is starting to weigh down on his lids, leaving him with a cottonmouth and he tears a slight grunt from his throat upon realizing that the whole water bottle he's drank is now pressing against his bladder uncomfortably.

Tossing the phone away and propping himself up, Rin feels the tired muscles in his arm strain as he digs the palm of his other hand into his eyes, rubbing the exhaustion away. It works just enough to ease the slight sting, feet planted onto the ground as he gets up and strides across the dark room.

It must've been an hour, two tops, he wonders, reaching for the handle. The voices on the other side of the door have grown softer, quieter so as to not wake up the others that he figures must've fallen asleep by this point. He vaguely makes out the voices to be Sae's and his father's, probably still talking over yet another round of tea. His mom was always an early sleeper, and you looked quite worn out despite the gentle gleam in your eyes back in the living room, so it's not all that weird if you're both asleep by now. you've probably dozed right off as soon as you hit the bed, all warm and comfortable from your shower.

That's what he thinks. And that's exactly why he almost jolts in his step when he opens the door to see you, standing there, using the same momentum to push it open; hand pushing down on the other side of the handle. It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, just another encounter to laugh off by tomorrow morning's cup of coffee.

But the way you peer up at him – doe eyes wide and startled, a single rivulet of water streaming down your flushed cheeks as damp hair sticks to your forehead – knocks the breath out of his lungs.

You clutch the fluffy white towel closer to your heated skin, a meek sound of surprise hitching in your throat. Rin has to bite back a groan as the sharp movement only makes your tits press against each other even tighter. "Hah– o-oh, huh, I'm sorry– thought Sae's room was–"

Rin cuts off the jumble of words, "It's right across." He corrects, voice a gravelly tune that has your knees knock together in a sheepish buckle. Your cheeks scorch, blood rushing to the soft flesh as you gnaw at your bottom lip, "Excuse me."

You're not entirely too sure why Rin's attitude towards you took a whole 180 spin – but the way he pushes past you, tough muscle bumping against your finer frame, has you yelp slightly. You jerk a little upon the thud of the bathroom door slamming shut and turn to look behind you, a soft furrow to your brows, and ultimately decide to get back to the right room this time – before the sheer embarrassment eats you alive.

On the other side of the door, Rin grabs at the sink with one hand, keeping balance as he peels his sweatpants off. He tugs his boxers down along with them, then stands back on two feet and tugs off his sweatshirt, grip tight on the fabric as his mind reels.

It's a joke, all of it, he thinks as he steps into the shower yet again tonight. The water is instantly warm as soon as he turns it on, a remnant of your bath, he supposes, but the spray isn't meant to bring him any comfort this time. It works very little to soothe his strained and taut muscles as his back flexes when he reaches his hand down, fingers wrapping around the throbbing girth.

It has to be a joke, he's sure of it, as he shuts his eyes with a groan stuck somewhere deep inside of his chest, where he can swallow it down and keep it untraceable. All of it has to be some sort of get back, a play at his will power and conscience for all the fucked up shit he's done so far in life.

It would all be so much easier if he could just push all of the blame to a twist of fate, a kismet so preposterous it'd make anyone laugh. But he can't, and he's the only one to bear the weight of his thoughts, alone, gasping for air as he nearly doubles over in the steamy shower.

He's the only one at fault when he spills all over the tiles, a moan of your name mixing in with the steam, as all sense of morality goes down the drain.

I heard about a whirlwind that’s coming round / it’s gonna carry off all that isn’t bound, and / when it happens, when it happens, I won’t be holding on

658 notes · View notes

perenial · 9 months

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gene im so glad you said this cause I haven't seen anyone else comparing it to the book as source material for like character and tone but i am So sure that if terry was alive the season would not be like this but i fear good omens fans dont realise how big a factor the lack of terry's influence is?? or like they forget that good omens was never just neilman???

ok before i go any further: i rly don't want to detract from anyone's enjoyment of the season and everything im going to say comes from a place of love for a) the original novel (& season 1 to a certain extent bc it got me back into it lol) and b) tv as a medium so like peace and love on planet let people enjoy things etc etc

but

like u said, terry's influence on the book was enormous – what makes gomens gomens is the balance of his genuine warmth and precise understanding of humanity tempered with neilman's sardonic voice and general like.....savvy approach to storytelling? i guess u could call it? anyway what rly helps the book is that it took them years to write it, passing ideas back and forth and rewriting each other's work until their voices blended seamlessly and a well structured capital-s Story was created. when i praise the book for being self-contained i think a huge part of that comes from the circumstances in which it emerged: two authors with complementary styles writing in a v particular time period where they had both the space to play with their ideas and the constraints of the novel as a storytelling format from which to craft something extremely specific.

adaptations are a tricky business and a tv version of gomens produced literal decades after the book was always going to have some unique challenges, but i don't think that's a bad thing bc the challenges could prove to be creative opportunities to take both the established audience and those new to the story by surprise. my biggest hot take here is that i don't think translating a story into a different medium means it has to follow the original narrative exactly, bc each medium has its own ways of communicating information and these structures, rules and traditions in turn inform what that story is. what matters more than following a story beat-by-beat is capturing what that story is about at its core, what themes and messages and ideas it works through and how.

all this is to say i never expected tv gomens to be a perfect reproduction of the book and if it had it been, it probably would have been worse off for it. that being said, there are parts of the book – like u said, its tone and character – that needed to have some fidelity in order to pull it off, and for the most part s1 did that bc it was still working predominantly within the bounds of the novel & its core ideas. while i did have some issues w how neilman & amazon adapted some details and characterisations, i generally rly liked s1 – it reminded me of why i loved the book and it was just generally fun to watch.

s2 was. not that fun to watch

a few positives before i go ham w the critiques:

the hair & makeup + costumes were fantastic (although i feel like s1 was slightly better re: makeup?)

the sound design & score made some of the more awkward scenes bearable and thats no mean feat imo

david & michael gave incredible performances w what they were given – michael especially managed to salvage aziraphale enough that his complete 180 didnt feel completely tonally dissonant (more on this later)

the detail of the sets is NUTS and i genuinely want to see more of hell bc of how intricate and fun the props look

i actually like gabriel/beelzebub!! their getting together montage worked for me, although they could have spent sliiiightly more time establishing what it is they like abt each other so much + why gabriel wanted to stop armageddon 2.0 so suddenly

the opening scene, although not on par w the novel's & s1's, was visually gorgeous and thematically resonant (although neilman owes me royalties for ripping it off from this shitty fic i wrote back when raphael!crowley was all the rage lol)

now w THAT being said:

like i said yesterday, the pacing was fucking awful. flashbacks are hard to work w at the best of times and the way they were used in this season felt so needless, especially the 40s one in ep 4 that takes up like 90% of the episode. in both flashbacks + present day there were scenes that dragged for no real reason, dialogue that looped back around on itself to stretch out the runtime, and weirdly enough places where there should have been character & plot work where there just,, wasn't any?? for example, maggie & nina's night locked in the café – some parts of the dialogue in later episodes made out that they'd had some rly deep conversation abt how they feel about each other or even that they'd had an affair, but that isn't clear from those scenes in the café. i'm not saying we had to see that conversation in its entirety but that there needed to be more connective details – either in dialogue or direction – that gave that part of the story coherence.

(there were pacing issues w the editing too but i don't want to jump down the editor's throats on this one bc im more focused on writing & direction issues)

the second major problem that i mentioned in my tags yesterday is the protagonist shift, which is an issue that started in s1. aziraphale & crowley are side characters in book gomens – significant ones, yeah, but still somewhat peripheral to adam (& anathema who counts as a deuteragonist imo). this works incredibly well w who they are as characters: they're Just Some Guys who happen to be involved in this epic biblical-level bureaucratic nightmare and importantly, they don't want to be in the spotlight. the arrangement was created so that they could explore what it meant to be themselves away from the Big Narrative; literally any time they get involved in larger affairs is bc the plot is alive and caught them unionising on company time. the last fucking chapter is adam (& god) being like haha u guys are alright keep it sleezy and letting them go. like. hello. neil u let them go.

but then!! tv gomens s1 does something interesting at the end w the body swapping addition that i dont totally hate – it gives aziraphale & crowley the extra bit of character work that brings them slightly more adjacent to their book selves. see i kinda view tv a/c as the younger, less settled versions of book a/c; they're still caught up in the immediacy of being key players and haven't fully realised that earth is their home. i haven't watched s1 in a while but one scene i remember rly clearly is crowley throwing all those astronomy texts in the air and angsting abt when he was an angel; i remember it bc his anguish in that scene feels a lot newer and rawer than book crowley's feelings about falling. when tv a/c do their bodyswap, it gives them the chance to land a blow against heaven/hell in a way that solidifies their allegiance to earth in a way that more closely resembles what book a/c have been abt the entire time (still adjacent, though. not parallel).

the reason why this works is that it does one final pivot to orient aziraphale and crowley as almost-main characters in a manner that makes sense in relation to a) their book selves and b) the position the tv show has placed them in. a combination of factors made tv a/c feel a lot less mature than their book counterparts but at the end of s1 they're sort of facing the same direction the book ended in, albeit through their own flashy late 2010s means.

when s2 was announced i was.......apprehensive bc to me, that felt like a satisfactory ending. i get the impression that amazon saw how wildly successful the adaptation was and was like oh shit we could make way more money out of this and neilman, having all those undead darlings that he and terry killed in the process of whittling the book into a workable novel, jumped at the chance to resurrect all those half-realised ideas. but not only were those ideas probably discarded for a reason, they've either been laying in wait for years unworked or they're new inventions, which means they weren't molded in the way that the book had been. like i said before, book gomens underwent years of rewrites and creative collaboration, and i think that process was what made it so good; s2 didn't have that. even if some of terry's ideas made it into s2, his influence is still missing bc he and neilman weren't in dialogue the same way they were in the book (and in some ways s1 bc i know terry was involved in the process of adapting gomens to screen before his death).

i don't think it's a case of newer fans forgetting terry so much as it is the context of terry's involvement being so removed from the current circumstances that certain aspects & discourses (i.e. is the s2 finale queerbaiting (no), does binge watching change the viewership experience (yes), etc etc) about the show overshadow other discussions that would usually be taking place. and before anyone says it's a case of neilman forgetting terry, i definitely don't think it's that either bc thats. yknow. wildly disrespectful. but also there are larger systems and structures at play than one writer no matter how much beef i have w him and his decisions, bc ultimately he's just one guy (a powerful and wealthy guy, but just a guy) and there's a wider cultural shift happening rn towards rehashing old stories without understanding what made them successful in the first place, and that same culture just doesn't allow for much, if any, constructive discourse analysis

so yeah

#replies.txt #Anonymous #god this is so long and rambling i hope it makes sense lmaooo #i have further thoughts on the general fic-y feeling of the season but that wasnt rly anon's question so i'll save that for another time #good omens #good omens spoilers

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idksmtms · 8 days

Text

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 5

Full Request: https://www.tumblr.com/idksmtms/741566020545839104/im-back-and-this-is-part-2-and-some-things-i?source=share

AN: My sincerest apologies for how FUCKING long it took me to get this out. But just so everyone knows, I am trying to finish writing the ENTIRE story before I post but it is taking me longer than expected because of self control issues. So depending on how much I get written by next week I will either post another part or post the entire story. (Let’s be real, it’ll probably just be another part). But thank you so much to everyone who is reading and waiting patiently for me to get my shit together. I appreciate every single one of you to the moon back!

Summary: You go into hiding for your child’s safety and meet a kind young woman. You make the biggest decision of your life.

Word count: 3,026

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), giving your child away (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

In the aftermath of your announcement, you and Poseidon sat together in your little hut trying to come up with a plan to keep your future baby safe. You had both agreed that you could not stay here. Too many people knew about the hut, and you couldn’t risk anyone dropping in for a visit when you weren’t expecting them. You would have to go somewhere no one could find you, at least until you had the baby.

“I-” you paused, knowing what you would have to do but not wanting to say it. Poseidon gently rested his hand atop yours, threading your fingers together as you lay side by side on the bed. “I cannot keep him, you cannot either, not until he grows anyway.” You swallowed back your tears as he turned his head and kissed your temple, keeping his face pressed to your hair as you continued talking. “If we want him to live, if we want there to be no way that either of our peoples may kill him, he will have to live on his own until he is grown, until he can fully use his powers.” Your voice wobbled so much that you wondered if he had understood a single word you had said.

“I know,” he whispered, eyes closing as tears began to gather again. “I know.”

“We must disguise him in some way, as a demigod perhaps?” You posed, trying to push through, trying to force yourself to acknowledge that this is really the only way to keep your child alive long enough to see him again.

“Yes, as a demigod he will be able to live at Camp Half-Blood, he will be safe there until he is grown. He can train, and… he will be happy, I’m sure,” Poseidon’s voice quivered just as yours had and you turned onto your side, wrapping your arm around him and burrowing your face into his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin. He could feel your lashes against his skin and it tickled, but he refused to move away, moving closer in fact.

“Yes,” you replied, and both of you went silent. You weren’t sure for how long, but when he reached up and rubbed at his face, you pulled back. He looked down at you, a gentle smile on his face as he shuffled forward and kissed your forehead.

“I know where you can go. The beach where we first kissed,” he smiled against your head and you giggled, shaking your head, tears now dried. “It has become popular with people now, they have built cabins just before the shoreline. You can live in one of them, hide in plain sight as a human on holiday. If anything goes wrong, just walk into the water and I will find you.” You nodded, agreeing without a second thought. You knew he only had your best interests at heart. You would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked.

So it was settled. Poseidon would bring you back to that beach, set you up in one of the houses, whichever was closest to the water, and you would live there until the baby was born. He would visit when he could, though it wouldn’t be often lest someone find out where you were, why he was disappearing. The only things you really had to ‘pack’ were your sword, you would go nowhere without it now, and your pearls. They would go everywhere with you, even to death.

Poseidon kissed you, long and hard, before leading you into the water and off to your new life.

You first met Sally Jackson on your third day in hiding. You had finally decided to venture out of the cabin, desperate to lay on the beach and catch the sun at least for a few hours. You had walked along the water's edge, dipping your toes in but nothing more or he would get worried and try to come to you. You had walked to the edge of the cabins, whispering to your child, stories that you made up in the moment or histories of the gods that Loki had once told you with glee. On the way back, just when you had turned, you saw her walking toward you, or rather, toward the final cabin.

She was beautiful, in a gentle and effortless way. Her hair was brown and windblown, curling in the sea air. Her cheeks were ruddy from the sunshine but still smooth, and permanently pulled up in the hint of a smile. Her eyes were blue, a blue that reminded you of Poseidon, and you couldn’t help the lifting of your spirits. She wore a blue sundress, flowy and almost grecian in its colour and style. She was young, surely in her twenties, and you could only wish that the blink of her existence would be remembered.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” She asked as she approached, sandals in her hand, arms swinging happily.

“Beautiful,” you replied, smile brightening. “It would be foolish not to step out and catch the sun.”

“Agreed! One hundred percent,” she laughed, a deep and jovial sound that made your stomach tickle and laugh along with her. “Are you staying in one of the cabins then?” She asked, walking a little closer and standing by you as you looked out at the ocean (rather wistfully).

“Yes, just down the other end, the one closest to the water,” you told her, pointing toward your new home.

“Oh wonderful! I’m just here,” she gestured to the final, tucked farther back and close to the septic tanks. “I’m Sally, Sally Jackson,” she held out her hand to you, eyes bright.

“I am Y/n,” you answered, shaking her hand gently, watching her in awe. She may be human, but she was the best one you had encountered to date.

“How long are you here?” She asked, walking with you despite it being the opposite way to her home.

“A long time,” you answered simply, but when her face twisted in question, you laughed, and tried again. “I’m pregnant, you see,” you rested your hands on your belly though it wasn’t showing yet.

“Oh! Congratulations! That’s amazing!” She clapped happily, stopping to reach over and hug you tightly, dropping her shoes in the sand.

“Thank you,” your voice was small, clogged up with emotion. She was the first person you had told other than Poseidon. The only person you could tell really, the only person who couldn’t do anything to hurt your child. “Anyway,” you wiped under your eyes, “I am staying here until the baby is born.” She nodded along with your words, ‘ahing’ in understanding.

“That’s amazing, you picked a wonderful place. I would love to stay here before I have a child.” Her voice was wistful and you just rested a hand on her arm, hoping to comfort her in a way words couldn’t. You didn’t know much about her, almost nothing at all, but she was good, good to the core. You could feel it.

‘I’m sure it will happen,” you answered, and she just laughed lightly, smiling brightly at you in thanks.

“Well, I’m glad there will be someone else around just as long as me,” she began, and you offered her a look of surprise. “Yes, I’ll be here for the next year or so. I’ve finished school, and I don’t really know what I want to do. They gave me this place for cheap so I’ll stay here until I can figure something out, I have enough savings for it anyway. Not particularly excited to run back to NYC just yet, you know? I love the city but it can get overwhelming really easily, and I need a long break. So it’s just me and my thoughts and the beach,” she shrugged, leaning her head back to stare up at the sky, bathe her face in the sun. You watched her for a moment, the peace on her face and the looseness of her limbs, and in that moment you made a decision you knew would alter the course of history.

You decided that Sally Jackson would be the one to take your baby.

You waited until it was midnight, when only the light of the moon shone over the beach. Then you ventured out, over the sand into the surf, walking until the water lapped at your knees and when you sat down each wave brushed all the way up to your neck. The water was cold but welcome. The feeling of your skin going prickly made you shiver as you waited for Poseidon to appear. You met once a month in the darkest hour of the night, at the place where the water always met the sand.

You sensed him right before you felt his arms wrap around you. He pulled you to sit between his legs, leaning against his chest. He pressed his face to your hair, inhaling deeply and sighing like every weight he had ever carried was suddenly lifted. You smiled, skin suddenly warm and tingly, and you tilted your head back to press a kiss to his jawline.

“Hello,” you whispered, a dreamy smile on your lips and eyes half open.

“Hello,” he returned equally quietly, then you both sat there in the quiet for some time. Though time was dwindling, neither of you wanted to disturb this moment of peace. It was so rare to feel completely at ease these days, and you wanted to take advantage of it as much as possible.

Finally, after a long enough time had passed that you knew you only had a few moments left together, you turned in his hold and grasped his face in your hands. Your thumbs caressed the apples of his cheeks, your fingertips just grazing the edges of his hairline by his ears. You smiled, a small warm thing that made his chest feel a little too tight.

“I have found the perfect person to take Perseus until he comes of age,” you finally said, voice so quiet that for a moment he thought it was just a whisper amidst the waves.

“Who?” It was short, clipped, not harsh (because he could never be harsh with you, even if he tried) but worried and almost desperate.

“Her name is Sally, Sally Jackson,” you sounded so happy when you said it, like you wholeheartedly believed in this person, so Poseidon nodded and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“And you trust her?” He asked, caressing your stomach with soft fingers that almost tickled.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in your voice, not even a waver, and he could see the firmness in your eyes, the conviction that the fates had led you to this woman for a reason, for this reason. “I think you should meet her, just to see for yourself. I-I know it is risky, but I think you will understand once you meet her.” You sat up and turned so you were facing him. You had a smile on your face, a small smile of hope that he hadn’t seen since you found out you were carrying his child. He nodded, but he didn’t smile. You understood, you understood better than anyone else would ever understand, and you reached up and caressed his bearded cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbones as he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand.

“I love you.”

“I need to tell you something.” You turned to face Sally as you both sat on the sand just out of the water’s reach. It was a bright and sunny day, the sand warm and crumbly under you, and you dug your toes and fingers into it.

It had been three and a half months since you had met Sally Jackson and you had spent almost every day with her. You would spend days walking along the beach, swimming in the ocean, cooking with each other or just reading in each other’s company. To her it was the perfect summer, to you… to you it proved so much more. She found it odd that you didn’t have a phone, that you had never cooked before, that there were so many normal things that you simply didn’t know how to do. But she was sweet, and patient, and always ready to help you no matter what.

“What is it?” Sally asked, sitting up onto her elbows on the blanket and turning to you, eyes squinted as she pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead.

“I have not been completely honest with you,” you gulped, rubbing your hands together before picking up some sand and letting it fall through your fingers. She waited for you to speak, and until the sand had completely fallen through your fingers, you didn’t. “I am not…”

“Not what?” She asked, leaning forward slightly and staring at you with eyebrows furrowed.

“I am not… human,” you finally breathed, turning to rest your cheek on your knees and watch her expression.

First she let out a breathless laugh, the kind that huffs out of one’s chest and doesn’t sound sincere. Then she gazed at you for a long while without saying a word. Her face was serious, not a hint of that disbelieving laughter from moments prior. She reached out and gently touched the ends of your hair, a dainty caress, then she sighed so long and loud that you began to worry about her.

“You sound absolutely insane, but I think I’m worse because I believe you. It actually makes a lot more sense that you’re something otherworldly rather than a human. Like you said you’ve never cut your hair but how has it not grown any longer than that? You said you’ve never been shopping in your life but you somehow always have new clothes. And… I don’t know, there’s just something about you that doesn’t seem real. You don’t seem real.” You smiled sadly as she spoke, closing your eyes and listening to the gentle swish of the waves crawling up the beach.

“I told you because there is something very important I need to ask you. If you are willing to listen, I will tell you everything that has happened that led to my being here. Then you may decide your answer to the question I will pose.” You opened your eyes and watched her face as you spoke. Her brows furrowed as if she couldn’t quite understand what you were saying and why you were saying it, but eventually she nodded and you turned to fully face her. You sat with your legs crossed, hands clasped, and began from the beginning.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, staring at you as if you had just asked her to cut off her head and hand it to you on a platter. You smiled woefully, a horizon of tears trembling on your lash line.

“I understand, it is a huge thing to ask of a friend, even more than huge, but you are the only one I trust, the only person I know who will be capable. My child cannot go back with me, they will kill him once they know who its father is. I… I cannot let that happen, Sally. I cannot. He deserves to live a full life, deserves to know that he is the product of love, that he is loved. He will grow up to be a god one day, he will grow up to be powerful and to unite worlds, simply by being himself.” You saw the way her chest trembled as she breathed, you could hear each raspy breath. Her nose was running, her upper lip pulled taut over her teeth as she chewed on it. Her eyes were rimmed with pain and redness and tears and you wanted to reach out and hug her but stayed your hand.

“Sally… I understand I have asked the world of you. And of course you need not make the decision now, you have all the time in the world, until this child is born. He will be disguised as a demigod, so even if either world discovers of his existence, they will not think twice about him. You must raise him until he is old enough to make the journey to Camp Half-Blood. He will be safe there, and your job will be done.” You stopped and you swallowed, wiping at your eyes. “You may think me crazy to ask this of you, I understand, truly, I do. But you are the strongest person I know, human or god.” She stared up at you, hands trembling and face open in surprise. You reached out and grabbed her hands. “Because you have something everyone can only wish for. A strong character. A strong will. I know no one else who would do this as well as I know you would. I know you will be the best mother, regardless of if the child is your own or not. I know you will nurture them, protect them, love them. So please, think about it, ask me anything you wish to ask, and only then, make your decision.”

Both of you sat there for hours, not saying a word. Sally had pressed her face into her hands, breathing steadily, and you could almost hear her thinking. You did not say a word, just lay flat on the blanket and stared up at the sky, hands on your stomach. You caressed it up and down, whispering to the child in your mind, telling him that this would be for the best, that this was the only way to keep him alive. But this did nothing to dissipate the pain in your heart.

You felt Sally shift beside you and you turned to look at her from where you lay on the blanket. She had finally pulled her hands away from her face and had wiped her eyes. They were still puffy and red but she was staring out at the sea with determination on her face.

“I want to meet him. Your husband. Before I decide.”

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akutasoda · 2 months

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hello!! 🐊anon here! I'm greatly excited to see the requests are finally open!! I've waited for this moment since december jiji, can I request bsd men (you can choose them but pls add ranpo and grandpa fukuzawa) with a child!fem! Reader (platonic obv) who's like Lucy from Elfen Lied? I've just re-watched the anime but I didn't remember it so bloody O_o" anyways, if you dont know about her, i quickly explain it to you, she is not human she is a diclonius, this race has vectors, which are invisible and intangible weapons and have the shape of arms with incredible physical strength, although they only reach 2 meters. Female diclonius have pink hair with 2 little horns on each side of their head, while males... They are bald and ugly lol 😭. That would be my 'quick' explanation, ofc you can ignore the blood here blood there part, but i'd like it more if you at least describe her as 'dangerous'.

At the end of the day, Reader is not a villain, just a misunderstood girl who has been through a lot, she just wants a hug and to cry in someone's arms :c. Ah i forgot, angst with some fluff if u want :3 you can ignore this if you consider it out of the rules!! Its fine for me i have more ideas to share!! Have a nuce day ill be waiting patiently, take your time and takd care of yourself!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

childhood misunderstandings

synopsis - maybe you really were just a misunderstood child

includes - ranpo, fukuzawa, sigma, oda - all platonic!

warnings - fem!child!reader, angst to comfort, fluff, mentions of blood and violence, wc - 1k

a/n: hii! sorry this took so long but hope you're having a nice day! take care of yourself aswell <3

ranpo edogawa ★↷

↪while ranpo may be outgoing, he doesn't really use that to form many relationships with the people he talks to. however he may realise how much fukuzawa's care has affected him when he finds you.

↪he is by no means an idiot, and so he can immediately understand that you aren't as dangerous as everyone made you out to be. some people really just have to do what they can to survive and so for you that meant you perhaps had to hurt some people.

↪he had no issue with offering to take you in just like fukuzawa did for him - he knew fukuzawa also wouldn't have an issue. mainly because he also knew that not many would have the same confidence to turn a blind eye and understand your situation.

↪he always thought your pink hair reminded him of the kind of pink that was on sweet wrappers - he also thought your little ears on the side of your head were adorable.

↪your combative side to your ability mattered very little to him. sure it was pretty cool and very dangerous in close quarters but he never really cared about what other people's abilities were. most times.

↪ranpo can be rather expressing, more often with people closer to him and it's not really physical contact. but he could sympathise with your situation and understand that one simple comforting hug could open a floodgate.

↪and when he does give you the biggest hug you'd ever receive, you really couldn't help but feel a sense of home in his arms (his hugs are the perfect mix of a comforting weight that doesn't feel overbearing)

yukichi fukuzawa ★↷

↪fukuzawa was no stranger to finding troubled children and taking them under his care even if a few were literal criminals - some may say he had that fatherly instinct. so when he found you in a mess of blood he wouldn't think twice.

↪of course he couldn't completely ignore the fact that he did find you in a rather concerning display of blood that was most definitely not yours, as much as he would like to. however he could happily tell himself that people always had some reason for doing what they did.

↪he thought your appearance, because of you ability, was quite lovely. your pink hair rather sweet and the small little ears on the side of your head really made him melt.

↪because of the fact that his ability helped others, that eventually extended to you. in turn making your vectors that much more controllable and therefore stronger. he could agree that your ability's more combative side was dangerous but he wanted to refrain you from using it in such ways.

↪the first time he ever gave you a hug you cried immediately. he was the first person to realise how you weren't dangerous for villainous reasons - when you realised this you grew that much more attached to him.

↪ fukuzawa practically radiates a maternal instinct and he has no problem in helping troubled children. as a result he has no problem when they view him as the father figure they might so desperately need.

sigma ★↷

↪sigma has barely lived his life. he was created 3 years ago and ever since he's been serving duties for the oda and running the sky casino. therefore, he was left with very little time to do anything else.

↪he wasn't quite as desensitized as his colleagues and so when he found you, he panicked quite a bit. the last thing he'd expect to see would be the sight of a young child surrounded by blood from what he could only assume was someone else's.

↪ although, if there was one thing that he had in common with you would be the search for a home - he barely had a past and you had a past full of unfortunate experiences. you both just wanted somewhere to be safe and feel comfort.

↪your ability with your vectors did make him wary at first, mainly because he couldn't see them. but he thought your pink hair and little ears were beautiful and unique.

↪sigma isn't exactly the most forward with any kinds of physical expression. he has probably never received a hug in his life but he would try his hardest to give you that comfort he never had. a home for the both of you.

sakunosuke oda ★↷

↪it was certainly no secret that oda loved kids - more specifically loved taking after them. even after a long day's work there's nothing more he'd like to do than visit the orphans he regularly visits. but he'd never really adopted one of his own.

↪but that all changed when he met you. finding you in a mess of blood that vaguely reminded him of how he met a certain brunette, but this time it wasn't your own. he could immediately sympathise with your situation despite probably not being in a similar one.

↪he probably had the mafia to thank for his desensitisation to anything violent and so you being classed as 'dangerous' didn't mean anything to him. to him you were a child. a child in need of proper care.

↪your pink hair and small ears were loved by the orphans that he eventually introduced you to when he couldn't let you tag alongside him - he also thought they were quite adorable.

↪your ability was the reason you were seen as 'dangerous' but he didn't care. as long as you learnt to utilise the vectors and have complete control, he wouldn't mind - he would also gladly help you learn how to control them if need be.

↪oda would be quite happy to give you a very much needed hug. if you really needed somewhere to know that you were safe and that nothing bad would happen, his arms were the perfect place.

#🐊 anon↩#x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd x female reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #bsd odasaku #odasaku x reader #oda x reader

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