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actual-changeling · 10 months

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no i am not done with the breakup scene yet. it haunts me during the day and it haunts my dreams, soon i will be able to replay it in my head on command. today's obsession: tell me you said no

firstly, i think it's important to point out just how deep the miscommunication runs here. aziraphale is excited, outright giddy about the news he is delivering, and he expects crowley to be just as happy about them.

after all, he thinks he is giving crowley what he has always wanted - they can go off together, he can be an angel again, which to zira equals being on the good side. the side of *light*. he remembers crowley's creation, remembers how in awe and happy he was with it, and thinks that is what he is offering.

aziraphale's expressions during this scene are probably gonna be their own post, but long story short he switches between excited and confused like a broken light switch, unable to decide which one to settle on.

crowley, well, crowley is angry. angry and confused and completely caught off guard because aziraphale is shaking the very foundation of what crowley currently thinks to be their relationship. the horror dawns on him pretty early, but he tries to fight it off, tries to convince himself that no, aziraphale wouldn't. he wouldn't agree to that, he KNOWS me. he knows i don't want to go back, he knows both sides are equally bad.

tell me you said no. tell me i wasn't wrong about you, about us. tell me i didn't misjudge our entire relationship. tell me the last millennia were worth something, anything.

tell me you said no.

if you rewatch the scene, you will notice that crowley never breaks eye contact, he stares aziraphale down the entire time. unless it was literally blink and you will miss it, i am pretty sure he does not even blink. not once. aziraphale on the other hand is looking everywhere but at him, his gaze flicks around just as much as his expression. crowley tries again, one last time. tells him you know they will both destroy this planet, humanity, us. it doesn't matter which side wins, the result will be the same. we KNOW that. we SAW that. we stopped it from happening.

aziraphale does not answer.

he does not have to. crowley can read him well enough to know exactly what he responded, and even if he couldn't - he knew from the beginning. he just cannot believe the answer. he still can't.

it's one of his fatal flaws, isn't it, believing in aziraphale and in them against every rule and threat the universe throws at them.

now to get to the part that breaks my heart.

crowley repeats himself again, not breaking eye contact while aziraphale tries to avoid his gaze.

tell me you said no.

he still hopes. after that entire conversation, he still hopes.

when the silence stays unbroken he steps towards him, asking one. last. time.

angel tell me you said no.

this. this frame. this is when the realization hits him full force, the truth he has been trying to talk and rationalize his way out of. he has been begging aziraphale to tell him that he did not betray him, them.

everything he has been fighting for the last six thousand years, all the thoughts telling him he is worth less than aziraphale because he fell, because he is a demon, evil, on the wrong side. everything he has been unlearning, accepting that he can be kind, he can be good. accepting that aziraphale cares about him, fuck, maybe even loves him.

crowley thought aziraphale is the one being that sees him, truly sees him, which is why he offers himself without his glasses - his last layer of protection.

he betrayed us. he has never been with me, we have never been on our side, not when he chooses heaven over the fragile, peaceful existence they have carved out for themselves. he took care of the bookshop, allowed zira to take his bentley, cleaned up and tidied and prepared it for his return, for the both of them. just to get all of it thrown into his face, to have it degraded as not good enough. to have HIMSELF degraded as not good enough.

and after all that. after that realization, the pain, the break in what he thought was their reality.

after aziraphale telling him that he plans on leaving earth and wants crowley to be someone he is.

crowley swallows his tears and he steps back, keeps his glasses off and continues with his confession anyway. his voice breaks several times throughout it, he is on the verge of crying. i will probably make a separate post about all that but once again, tldr he suppresses tears throughout his entire speech.

i want to spend eternity with you and he cannot say it because he knows he would break on eternity and start crying. somehow, crowley still hopes that maybe this will change his mind, this will make him realize that he needs to stay here, stay with me.

crowley hopes and hopes and hopes and aziraphale finally meets his gaze and all he responds is nothing lasts forever.

no, i don't suppose it does.

still, what is left but to keep hoping that maybe one day, they will be an us, even if it isn't forever. even if it's just one day, one kiss, one second of being held and kissed back.

crowley keeps hoping and that, to me, is the most painful part of it all.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #good omens meta #this got so much longer than i intended for it to be rip #i feel like it is important to mention that these posts are not planned in the slightest #i look at some screencaps experience emotions and then write a stream of consciousness #i hope it has enough of a red thread that people can follow though #any spelling mistakes and the like are because i do not proof read my tumblr posts #you get my unfiltered brain vomit

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kamaluhkhan · 6 months

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you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

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dira333 · 7 days

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The Soulmate Theory - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

I welcome you to my probably last-ever Soulmate fic. As much as I love reading this trope, it's gotten harder and harder to write. I hope you like it. This is for @shoulmate

Trope: You share your Soulmate's pain.

Soulmates used to be a thing.

A long, long time ago, way before the first ever Quirk was documented, Soulmate bonds were just as common as Quirks are nowadays.

Your grandmother used to be fascinated by it, told you stories about her grandmother who was convinced she shared a soulmate bond even though not one case had been documented in the last hundred years before her.

It’s only natural, you’d say, that you didn’t realize you had one. After all, why would you think that?

Pain has always been part of your life.

Your wrists hurt and your legs hurt and your back hurts and your stomach hurts… all the time. The doctors cannot find anything, some even accuse you of pretending for attention. You’d gladly trade all that attention against a pain-free day.

Your Quirk’s Telekinesis and you’re so glad about it, because how else would you be able to move that pen and write that notes when your hands hurt like this?

You’re getting better at it too, threading a needle or picking up the last grain of rice with your thoughts alone.

A dull ache has settled behind your left eye after what has been the most intense pain flare you’ve ever had. All you want to do is rest.

But your mind is reeling, craving an outlet for all the thoughts inside your head.

Your restless eyes find some fabric in the corner of the room. Soon enough a few needles are working their magic, a creation coming to life before your eyes.

You might not be able to walk around most days, but at least you can still create outfits you’d love to flaunt in.

Years later

“Can you take over my student?” Kameko asks, “He wants a completely new costume.”

“What year?”

“First year. And his old one wasn’t even destroyed.”

“So? Maybe he found something out about himself.”

She huffs. “Please? I still have to finish Amajiki’s new design and you know how anxious he gets.”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you take another first year off my plate then? His name is Midoriya and he ripped it in half, it seems.”

“Oh yeah, give it to me.”

Someone clears their throat. You look up from your work into a set of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one grey.

“Yes?” You ask. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for my new Costume.”

“Are you Midoriya?” You point at the green fabric on your desk, or rather what’s left of the costume.”

“No, I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Ah,” Kameko doesn’t even look guilty at being caught. “You’re with her then. Do you need the think tank?” She points at the cubicle where you can go and plan outfits.

Todoroki looks like he isn’t quite sure, so you carefully slide off your chair and shuffle over.

“Come, come,” you wave at him, “It’s never wrong to brainstorm.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks and has the decency not to point at how you clearly favor your left leg.

“Not more than usual,” you try to joke and though he looks a little confused, he doesn’t ask more questions.

Todoroki is a quiet individual. He’s not shy, that you perceive immediately, but he makes sure to check if he’s allowed to speak before he opens his mouth.

He’s also insanely pretty, the red, rough skin over his left eye giving him even more appeal. But he’s also one year younger than you, so you keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head.

“If you want to change the design, we can do that, no problem.” You remind him when you’ve finally found something he seems almost happy with.

“I don’t want to cause you more work.”

“If you don’t cause me any work I’d have nothing to do,” you joke and he looks at you quietly for a while. You wonder if he’s ruminating over your joke or waiting for you to talk on and sadly, you’re more than likely to ramble in a confusing silence.

You gesture, somehow now talking about the importance of fresh orange juice for the human body, a topic you didn’t even know you could talk about beforehand when your hand connects harshly with the door behind you. Your wrist catches the doorknob and the pain is immediate, sharp and cool, like you’d imagine being stabbed with an icicle would feel like.

Todoroki hisses behind you and you’d compliment him on the empathy if it wouldn’t hurt like that.

When you turn, hand pressed against your chest, he’s cradling his own hand before dropping it. “Musclespasm,” he explains quietly, offering you a hand that is covered in ice. “Do you want me to cool it? It helps.”

“I’d like to add some more details to my costume,” Todoroki approaches you with a Bento Box in hand.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment as you focus your Quirk on a particularly tough seam.

“No problem, as I said. What’s it about?”

“Could we use the think tank?”

You turn to check but it’s clearly occupied.

“Sadly not. Is it more complicated then?” You nod at the Bento Box. “Do you think it will keep us occupied during lunch break?”

“No, this is…” Todoroki hesitates for a second before holding it out to you. “It’s just something I wanted to give you. My sister made these.”

You open it with curious fingers to reveal twelve perfectly shaped cookies.

“That’s lovely, but why me?”

His cheeks turn pink and his lips curl into an adorable pout before he eventually talks.

“I mentioned that I was pleased with the changes and she told me to say thank you.”

“Aww,” you coo. “Your older sister then?”

“Yes,” the pout exaggerates, “I would have said thank you without her intervening.”

“Of course you’d have.” - “But my cookies didn’t turn out good.”

You both speak at the same time, or rather you accidentally interrupted him and he still talked on.

You stare at him now, mouth agape as you process his words.

“You made cookies for me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki nods, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Next time,” you joke, not quite realizing what you’re saying until it has left your lips and your brain has caught on, “just bring me the Cookies you made. It’s the thought that counts.”

He stares at you with wide eyes for what feels like eternity before a soft pink blush blooms on his cheeks.

You hide your own face in the box of Cookies, hope that he won’t hear the thunderous beating of your heart over the noise of you eating one.

They’re delicious. Of course they are.

You don’t know how or when or even why, but clearly, there’s a friendship growing between you and Todoroki Shouto. He’s stopped claiming he’s only dropping in for new additions to his costumes and in turn you’ve tried quite a few of his food creations, each one of them worse than the last.

But he’s cute and honest and real about it and you couldn’t do better if you tried anyway.

Your pain, however, doesn’t stop just because you’ve found work you enjoy or friends to spend your time with.

There are days where you cannot get out of bed. Days where strong painkillers allow you to get to school only for everything to go past you because those painkillers leave you loopy and tired, falling asleep over some costume in the early afternoon hours.

At least you’re not in the Hero Course, you think on the worst days, because you’ve seen the bruises Training leaves on Shouto’s arms and legs.

That’s before you realize that Training is the least of all his problems.

Third Year

“How are you?” You ask, because what else do you ask your Crush Slash Good Friend you haven’t seen in months?

Shouto’s got new scars, he’s grown, and he’s fought in a war while you were bedridden from pain, your mother scared out of her depths that you’d die in an attack, unable to move.

But you survived and so did he and if you can believe what you’ve heard on the news, he’s found out some things about his family too.

“Tired,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair, “I missed you.”

You wonder how hard it was for him to admit that.

“Think tank?” You ask, slipping off your chair when he nods.

The last few days have been painless and even though you’re anxious about what’s to come after that, you can’t help but enjoy it.

When the door closes after him, you realize just how small that cubicle really is.

Or maybe it’s just that Shouto doesn’t step away like he used to do, staying so close to you that you could count every single one of his long lashes if you wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” He asks and you nod, unable to say anything, even less when he pulls you in.

He’s tall and strong, cool on one side and warm on the other and your face nuzzles into his neck like it was meant to be like that anyway.

You don’t speak for a while, just hold each other in the semi-privacy this room provides.

“I want to take care of you,” Shouto whispers at some point. “Can I?”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise anyone that you two end up dating.

Your third year is almost painless.

Sure, there are frequent days where you’re sore for no reason whatsoever, but that is nothing against the blinding pain that had tied you to a bed for weeks before.

Sometimes, Shouto pouts about that. He thinks it’s his job as your boyfriend to look after you and what good is he for if you don’t need looking after?

His friends tell you that he’s less reckless now - as if he’d ever been - making sure to keep himself safe because you need him.

You’ve met his sister, one of his older brothers and his mother, all of them nice, though maybe a bit distanced.

Emotional vulnerability doesn’t seem to come easy to them.

Shouto, however, likes to talk about his feelings in depth. And he wants to know how you’re feeling too, listening with wide eyes as you explain.

Should it be weird that you’re dating someone younger than you? If so, you’re doing it wrong.

The first(?) hint

“Do we need anything from the store?” You ask, phone crammed between your ear and shoulder as you grab your stuff from the passenger seat.

“I was going to get the groceries,” Shouto huffs on the other side of the call and you can see it, how he pouts at the thought that you’re doing it instead of him.

“I was already on my way. You can do the laundry.”

“I hate doing the laundry,” he groans and you giggle. “I know. I’m going to help you with it, don’t worry.”

“I could cook,” he offers and you giggle again, opening the door to step out. “As much as I love you, Shouto, I don’t love your cooking.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding exactly like a child that didn’t get its way, “But we do face-masks while doing the laundry.”

“Of course. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need both hands for shopping.”

“Sure. I’ll buy you more headphones in the meantime.”

There are a few more teasing remarks, a last “I love you” and then you shove your phone back in your purse and turn to where you think the shopping carts are located.

You don’t see the step in front of you before it’s too late and then you’re tumbling through the air. It happens slowly and then all at once and you’re not really sure what hurt first and what hurts the most.

For a moment you’re just lying there, face down on the pavement, trying not to puke, collecting your thoughts as if they scattered on your floor just like your open purse.

Your phone starts ringing and that seems the most manageable task so you pick it up from right in front of you and press it against your ear.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Love, are you okay?” Shouto sounds worried.

“No, I just tripped and fell,” you pick your head up from the asphalt and squint at your stuff in front of you, “in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Just after you hung up I felt a lot of pain and I just… I knew it was you.”

It keeps happening after that.

It doesn’t help that you’re clumsy, but maybe that’s for the best now, as you try and figure out this weird coincidence.

If you hurt yourself, Shouto feels the pain.

If Shouto hurts himself, you feel the pain.

It’s only after he almost gets buried by a collapsing building that you actually tell a Doctor. Or rather Midoriya unloads all the Data he has collected on the poor, unassuming Recovery Girl.

The most likely answer, as strange as it might sound, is the Soulmate Theory.

“Since you’re the first documented case in hundreds of years we don’t have anything to prove this theory. But I’m quite positive that more cases will follow.”

You blink back at her, not quite understanding. Shouto’s left hand, one of the few places of his that are not covered in bandages, squeezes yours.

“You know what that means, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. We’re most definitely never going to break up.”

His eyes widen in a way you’ve grown familiar with. No matter how long you’ve been dating, you still seem to be able to surprise him.

“No,” he presses out weakly, “I meant… That all the pain you went through as a child and teenager, that was me. It’s my fault.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the little spot above his eyebrows that has come away unscathed.

“I’m not saying it was nice, but if I could take at least a little bit of the pain you went through, I’d say it was worth it.”

You’re pretty sure Shouto would disagree, but in your eyes Soulmates are not quite as fancy as they’re made out to be.

After all, you found him on your own, didn’t you?

#my writing #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Text

childhood sweethearts (11) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

thought I’d be nice for once and give y’all something short and sweet

childhood sweethearts (11) II a.russo x reader

"thank you." you smiled appreciatively, taking your coffee and bag of food, making your way out of the cafe. you took a seat at a small table outside in the sun, dropping your sunglasses down onto your nose and basking in the warm glow of the early morning sun.

normally you'd take the opportunity of a saturday morning to sleep in, especially given the fact you'd hardly slept a wink last night. however this morning your body had been awake and coiled with anxiety far earlier than you intended.

so here you were hoping a coffee and a sweet treat might help to ease the grey cloud of nervous energy which hung over your body, and had done ever since your front door had slammed closed last night and the reality of your actions had sank in.

as much as you wanted to be angry at alessia for leaving you couldn't find it within yourself, knowing just as well that had the situation been reversed and you'd been at her home you'd have done the exact same thing.

the more you were left with your own thoughts to think it over, the more you began to realise you actually weren't angry with her in the slightest. if anything, you found yourself quite missing the feeling of kissing her and the way your head span.

you could still feel her hands as they roamed your body, your lips tingling at the thought of hers pressed against them soft and inviting.

the haunting memory of how it felt to have your skin touching hers and each inch of it feeling alight as if on fire, goosebumps peaking all over your body as your hair stood on end like bolts of electricity had ripped through you.

you missed her, you missed that feeling, and you wanted nothing more than to relive it over and over again. and that, that was much more terrifying a feeling than anything else at all.

finishing your coffee you pushed it aside, swallowing your mouthful of food and tapping on your phone, unlocking it and staring at the thread of messages, a million and one thoughts flitting through your head.

over and over again you typed a message to her, and then immediately deleted it with a shake of your head.

this routine continued until you'd finished your pastry, giving up with a sigh and slipping your phone into your pocket, standing up from the table and disposing of your rubbish, starting to slowly make your way back home.

you stopped by the market on the way deciding that you needed to keep yourself busy today in anyway you could and so without any real errands that needed to be done, and a small mountain of school work you knew you'd need to get to at some point you decided that a morning of baking might help to cease the unease which plagued your mind.

thanking the shopkeeper with a smile you slung the bag of groceries over your shoulder and slipped your sunglasses back down onto your nose, continuing your walk home and soaking in the warmth of a promisingly lovely weekend.

you hummed along to the tune which beat through you, one airpod tucked into your right ear as you rounded the final corner and headed home.

you found your eyes focused more on your feet than what lay ahead, a bad habit as you turned and suddenly looked up knowing you were now home, almost falling over at a sight you should have noticed a lot sooner.

"jesus christ!" you swore in shock, clutching at your chest in surprise as you almost tripped over alessia who was sat waiting on your front steps, pulling your airpod out and exhaling shakily.

"sorry! i thought you'd see me." alessia blushed bright red, scurrying to her feet and darting out of your way. "no sorry i was completely in my own world, that's not on you." you rambled out quickly, your own cheeks warm with embarrassment as you noticed a bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in the strikers hand.

"thought i'd wait around and hand deliver these in person this time." alessia forced an awkward smile at the memory of the last time she'd tried to apologise with flowers and been caught out trying to make a break for it before you'd seen her.

"do you want to...come in?" you offered, unsure really of how to progress as your head began to click into an overdrive of flurried nerves and uncertainty. "yeah okay." alessia nodded, seemingly just as flustered as you stepped around her and made a beeline up to your front door.

you dropped the keys and swore quietly to yourself, bending down to grab them and jamming them in the lock, twisting as the door unlocked with a sudden pop and you stumbled inside.

"seems we've swapped today." alessia joked, grabbing the back of your top to steady you as you forced a nervous laugh, unsure why your body was betraying you in such a way as she closed the door for you.

"do you want anything? tea? coffee? water?" you offered, dropping your bag carefully onto the counter and raising an eyebrow, trying desperately to calm yourself and even out your breathing. "i'm fine, thank you." alessia declined politely.

"for you." she countered quickly, again holding out the flowers as your face softened, now noticing of course she'd gotten your favourites. "they're beautiful less, thank you." you smiled, grabbing a vase from your cupboard.

busying yourself arranging them in the vase you cleared your throat, a thick silence occupying the room as clearly neither of you knew where to start.

"they aren't for anything either, they're well...they're just because." alessia broke first, cheeks flushed rosy pink as you spared her a glance over your shoulder, softening at the shy smile on her face at the confession.

"thank you." you repeated, your own neck warming up as again silence fell.

"about last night-" "we should talk about-"

you both stopped as the other started, sharing an awkward laugh at your shared intentions. "do you want to sit outside? shame to waste the sun." you offered gesturing to the small deck which lead out onto your backyard, alessia agreeing with a nod.

"i'm sorry i left." alessia started not long after the two of you had settled on the deck, a generous enough gap left between the two of you as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. "you don't need to be, i'm not upset with you." you clarified, shooting her a small smile of reassurance before looking away again.

"it was, unexpected." you continued, referring more so to the kiss you both shared rather than her leaving, hoping she would pick up on it without you needing to clarify much more.

"yeah." alessia breathed out, picking up on what you were insinuating, exhaling shakily. an awkward silence fell after that as you both ticked over in your own heads what to say next, but without knowing what the other was feeling you were both too hesitant to lead the conversation.

"i wish i could read your mind sometimes." alessia admitted, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced a little bit, body coiled with a nervous apprehension.

"one minute you're kissing me and then saying you just want to be friends, and i understood why and i tried so hard to respect that because i know you gave me a second chance i didn't deserve and i wanted you in my life selfishly in anyway i could." alessia continued as you looked away, ears burning at the truthful words which fell from her lips.

"getting us back on track well seems to be going well but then we're kissing again and i have no idea what you're thinking about it all." her voice became quieter at that, conversation left open clearly hopeful that you'd pick up where she left off.

"i wish you could read my mind too because even i don't know how to decipher it sometimes." a small smile curled into your features before you sighed heavily and alessia braced herself for the rejection she expected to be thrown her way, having tried her best all morning to prepare for what you'd have to say.

"there's a part of my brain that's terrified from what happened and what it means, and all those feelings of rejection and pain and hurt come flying back. when you were so ready to just leave me behind, i felt like i meant nothing to you and i think the dismissal of everything we went through together." you started, a frown creasing into your eyebrows as alessia's stomach lurched.

"but then i also don't think its a fair second chance if i dwell on that. i know you're not that same teenager anymore alessia and it would be wrong for me to hold that against you or over your head for the rest of your life." your voice softened and you chanced a glance toward her, seeing a frown not too dissimilar to yours etched into her features as she looked at the ground.

"i don't regret the kiss." you stated boldly, your voice seemingly a whole lot more confident than you really felt as the blondes head snapped up in surprise. her eyes catching with yours and suddenly your stomach clenched and all that confidence melted away, tips of your ears burning.

"neither do i."

"can you tell me how you're feeling please?" alessia continued, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. but she was taken off guard as you suddenly let out a groan, laying down on your back and covering your face with your arms.

"that bad huh?" the striker winced, that fear of rejection returning as she looked away. "no its not that at all its just..." you trailed off, words muffled against your arms, unsure how to even put it in words.

"just what?" "i feel like a hypocrite." "and why would you feel that way?"

"well i'm the one who kissed you the first time, and then i freaked out and made a firm point that it wouldn't happen again. that we couldn't be anything more than friends again because of how scared i was to go back to feeling how i had, and i don't ever want to be that hurt again." you started quietly, hands dropping to your sides as you stared up at the sky, feeling alessia's watchful gaze on you.

"but you only kissed me because i ambushed you with that big speech and i turned up to your house an absolute mess and you had every right to set those boundaries between us. it doesn't make you a hypocrite." alessia warned softly, reaching out to touch you but thinking better of it as her hand settled back in her lap.

"and last night...you can't take the full responsibility for that. it just, happened." her voice dropped an octave lower, wrenching her eyes away from you. "yeah." you agreed with a small sigh, still trying to unpack everything.

"okay i'm going to start speaking. but if you want me to stop, please stop me." alessia decided with a heavy exhale as you sat up again and nodded, waiting for her to continue. "okay this is sort of embarrassing but can we do the thing again, like when we were younger." she pleaded, cheeks flushed red with shame.

"you mean when we turn and-" "yeah." "okay."

hiding the small smile which wanted to curl into your features at her request you shuffled around so your backs faced one another, jolting ever so slightly as she pushed back a little, her body pressing lightly into yours.

you waited for her to speak, not wanting to rush her as clearly by your current positions this wasn't something she was finding easy to say, and you tried your best to swallow the nerves that caused to bubble up inside you.

"like i said, you had every right to set those boundaries with us given what happened and the fact we were starting over." alessia started, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. "but i don't think either of us can deny that clearly we aren't doing very well staying within them." she continued, your eyebrows furrowing into a slight frown.

"you can deny it if you want to but that kiss last night, it meant something, and i felt something. something that i tried to lock away when you said you wanted to be just friends because like i said, i'd rather have you in my life one way than not at all." alessia paused, again thinking out her next words as your heart started to beat a little faster.

"and i think you feel something too and thats probably terrifying given how things ended last time but i promise you i wouldn't ever dream of hurting you like that again. it scares me too just how much i care about you after so many years, how when i look at you everything that i thought was gone all just comes rushing back again and it makes my head spin. which is why i ran after the kiss last night, because i'd be lying if i said it didn't hurt to have to pretend i don't feel this way and that i don't want us to be something more." alessia continued confessing, biting her lip nervously.

"when i'm around you things make sense, we make sense. knowing how much i broke you the last time i had a chance to properly love you, it's the one thing in my life that I actually regret. seeing the pain in your eyes as you left, your inability to even look at me as you did. the not speaking to you or seeing you for so long, coming home and seeing you'd given back all my stuff, all the stuff i got for you, everything that symbolized us then symbolized that we were over for good, and of course i take responsibility for it but it hurt."

"you're the person i want to tell everything to, and the first one who comes to mind. when i got my first senior national team call up I just wanted to call you, text you, talk to you about it. but i couldn't, so i didn't. but now, now that feelings back and anytime something even tiny happens i find my mind wanders to what you'd think about it, what you'd say-" alessia paused again to take a breath as your heart hammered even harder in your chest.

"is this too much? god i feel like this is too much." the blonde stressed, doubt creeping in as you shook your head, forgetting momentarily that she couldn't see you. "no, keep going." you managed out once your senses kicked back in.

"okay, here we go.

"i like your eyes, i could look into them for hours and never get bored, they're comforting, they're beautiful and they're safe, just like you are. i like the little sun and moon studs in the corner of your ear, i like how the sound of your laughter can fill a whole room like a wind chime and how you stick your tongue out of that little gap in your teeth when you smile. i like the stupid little concentrating face you make when you think really hard about something, i like how you fall asleep during movie's, how you care more about other people than you do for yourself, you are a good person. a person better than i'll ever deserve another chance with, but you have no idea how badly i want to kiss you over and over again and for it to mean something." alessia's voice was barely a whisper as she finished, body riddled with anxiety as more time passed and you stayed dead silent.

"please say something."

"it is terrifying. when we kissed last night was different than that first time, all these emotions and feelings and memories came rushing back and suddenly i felt like that shy nervous lovesick teenager all over again. i was seventeen again laying in bed with you, both of us giggling like idiots and worrying about someone walking in on us." you started, trying desperately to make sense of how you were feeling despite how overwhelming it all was.

"i thought the kinds of feelings that came up when we kissed were long gone but its scary just how fast they all came racing back up to the surface. i think i really like you too lessi, no i know i do. but i think we still need to take things slowly, i don't want this to be something that crashes and burns out." you admitted, your stomach knotting over and over at the realization, your heartbeat now pounding in your ears.

there were no more words exchanged between you, and alessia jolted a little as she felt your hands inch backwards a little, seeking out her own. her every nerve tingled with a warm sense of calm as they found one another, your fingers intertwining with a gentle but now hopeful squeeze.

"okay, i can do slow. we can do slow."

with that said the two of you turned, again sitting side by side but much closer than before. "i know we just had like a big conversation but i really need to go or i'll be late for training and i don't particularly fancy running laps." alessia realised, giving you a guilty look.

"mmm i don't know, i'd kind of like to see you have to run some laps." you teased, a smile on your face as you tried to ignore the insane wave of emotions washing down on you, selfishly a little pleased she needed to leave which allowed you some time to sit and process them.

"could use them, might help you realise how long your legs are so you stop tripping over them." you continued, the blonde shoving you lightly before the two of you stood and headed back inside.

"so..." alessia trailed off, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet by the door. "so..." you mocked, crossing your arms as you hovered by your front door. "when can i see you again?" alessia asked, trying her best not to sound too eager, well aware you'd just had the conversation about testing the waters again.

"depends." you shrugged. "on?" alessia questioned, a little confused by your response. "you should get going, there's laps waiting for you." you reminded, opening your door and gesturing for her to go, the blonde stepping onto your front porch.

"depends on what?" the girl huffed impatiently, crossing her arms and staring you down. "whenever you ask me on a date. bye lessi!" you smiled, leaning up to softly kiss her cheek, closing the door quickly before she had a chance to respond.

you smiled at the good morning message on your phone, simple but sweet enough to have made your day just a little brighter as you texted alessia back.

she was quick to respond, making fun of you for the fact it wasn't technically morning anymore as you rolled your eyes, still still present on your lips as you sent her your own reply, wishing her good luck for the game today.

biting down on your lip your eyes scanned the contents of your fridge, willing some sort of inspiration to strike about what you could possibly cook yourself.

grabbing out some eggs you settled for those and a couple pieces of toast, your motivation low as you glanced over to the untouched pile of marking on your table.

you'd just finished cooking and hadn't even been able to sit down to eat before your phone rang. placing down your forkful of food you sighed and clicked answer.

"you better have a good reason for calling me on a sunday." you warned your brother. "wow its just so lovely to hear from you too." his voice dripped with sarcasm, and you winced at the loud music blaring behind him.

"what can i do for you dear harold?" you questioned, knowing him well enough that there was always an ulterior motive to his calls. "what are you doing today?" he asked, seemingly innocent as your eyes narrowed.

"why?" "always so suspicious! do you really not trust me?" "i could give you one hundred reasons why i don't trust you harry, need i remind of the santa incident? the how babies are made story? the sleeping bag accident?" "all just harmless childhood fun! lighten up. now are you busy today?" "not particularly, just have a small mountain of school work to mark through."

"perfect! we'll pick you up in an hour." harry cheered happily as your frown deepened. "sorry?" you questioned unsure if you'd heard him correctly. "alessia's game is at three and luca's sick so gio and i have a spare ticket, we'll be at yours in an hour. be ready!" and with that he'd hung up before you could even say another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

twelve

#alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #alessia russo #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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shogunish · 4 months

Text

𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀.

synopsis. “you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

contents. a bit of angst, comfort, miscommunication/lack of communication, implied friends-to-lovers, soft! satoru, takes place after the star plasma vessel incident, satoru's trauma response, unedited, something i whipped up on a whim lmao

wc. 1.3k

note. had a sudden urge to write this when i watched dazai edits and i hope i'll find more inspiration to write like..i just wanna be consistent for once 🥲

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

the inverted spear of heaven was no more.

the star plasma vessel incident — mainly toji fushiguro — had carved its mark into satoru’s flesh. after satoru had killed the man, he had made sure to destroy the cursed tool until not even ashes remained of the sharp blade that used to spill the blood of innocents.

it was almost like the sorcerer wanted to destroy the things that could destroy him.

however, he failed to notice how he had almost destroyed his relationship with you, too.

no longer did satoru wrap you up in his bear hugs. no longer did he let you rest your head on his shoulder on movie night. no longer were you welcome in his space.

always were you kept at an arm’s length. satoru was close enough to admire but so far out of reach like the constellation of stars dotting the night sky. what you thought was no more than a phase turned out to be so much more until, in the safety of your bedroom and underneath your blankets, your vision blurred with tears.

if the sun wasn't there, the moon would remain hidden in the vast void of space. and without satoru, you couldn't shine, either. in fact, your smile dimmed until it was almost extinguished by the pain satoru put you through — but it wasn’t his fault. or so you'd like to tell yourself.

satoru had danced with death when he was meant to only protect a girl.

you couldn't possibly blame him.

after all, you could neutralize the only thing that kept him safe.

the ability to nullify any cursed technique upon touch was as convenient as it was, literally, cursed. with zero offensive abilities, you always relied on satoru or suguru to cover for you in case your plans didn't work out. one miscalculation and your head would roll — that much you knew.

among every student attending jujutsu high, you were the weakest while satoru was the strongest.

it was enough to tie your fate to satoru, weaving a web of complicated feelings which usually tasted like those sugary gummy bears the sorcerer carried with him. it was sweet and warm like his embrace, but the blade of toji fushiguro had effortlessly cut through the fine webs. nothing but a cold void remained where laughter and silly inside jokes about digimon danced along the velvety threads.

almost like a black hole that swallowed the constellation in the skies, leaving behind broken galaxies and lonely stars that swallowed moons to fill the loss of their companions.

“he's so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, threw the teddy bear in your arms into the corner of your bed and sat up to blow your nose.

the teddy bear was a polar bear adorned with button eyes and a red bow tied around its fluffy neck. it looks like you, you had mindlessly said during last year's summer festival. satoru had spent the entire evening shooting little rubber ducks to earn enough points to win the silly bear, but it was worth it for your eyes lit up like the fireworks that followed soon after.

the clock read two am when you poured boiling hot water into a cup of instant ramen, ripped open the package of spice and stirred the meal with disinterest written all over your face. not even the scent of cheap cup noodles made your tummy growl anymore. how could it when it was so full of dread, guilt and worry for the sorcerer who stole your heart and refused to give it back? it was an unfair bargain, really.

just a moment later, you heard a knock on your door. you considered ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but alas, the lights were on and likely snuck through underneath the crack of the door to your dorm. what kind of idiot knocked on your door at two am?

satoru — the only idiot who'd knock on your door in the middle of the night and look like a kicked puppy.

“satoru? it's two am..,” you spoke first, standing between him and the warmth of your dorm.

satoru didn't look like satoru. even through the pitch black glasses of his shades could you see the storm brewing in those sky-blues of his. with a sigh, he rubbed his neck. “why does everyone keep telling me how late it is? ah, no matter.”

you wanted to ask, but decided against it.

“look, i know it's late, but i can't help but think you've been avoiding me for the last couple of what? weeks? months?” satoru shifted his weight from one fuzzy slipper to the other. “was it something i said?”

in that very moment, you realized you were doing the same things as he was. as soon as class was over, you'd go home alone. you'd have lunch alone. you'd spend your weekends alone. all those things once were shared with satoru in your space, but as soon as he avoided you..you avoided him, too out of fear of getting hurt.

“satoru..don't you realize that you've been avoiding me first?” your voice was quiet as you hugged your middle. “ever since the incident and the destruction of that cursed tool, you always kept me at arm's length. you no longer let me get any closer nor do you spar with me anymore. nothing..”

“you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

a painful epiphany coiled in satoru's stomach like a snake. was he so busy destroying the devil's tools and refining his technique that he..forgot about about you? the person who'd steal his fries and snore on his shoulder on movie night? no, no way. he would never see you as a threat even though your touch could dissolve his infinity like sugar when it touched water.

“[name], that's not..” the words got stuck in his throat. for the first time in his life, he was speechless. “you are anything but a threat.”

“then why..” tears brimmed your eyes until they overflowed, ran down the apples of your cheeks and met the warmth of satoru’s thumb. it was not his stupid infinity wiping the tears away, but satoru himself.

to be touched by satoru felt like the first sunrays of spring gracing your skin. warm, familiar and hinting at the end of a long, unforgiving winter that had taken root in your belly. soft sobs bubbled in the back of your throat, rocking your shoulders and interrupting every word you wanted to say; how stupid he was, how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“shh..say no more,” satoru whispered and took you in his strong arms so you could sob into his chest all you wanted.

satoru didn't care about the tears or snot wetting his shirt. all that mattered was the feeling of you in his arms, and even though it pained him to know that he caused those tears, this was better than receiving your cold shoulder and dismissive smiles.

quietly, you and satoru went back inside the warmth of your dorm where both of you shared some cheap cup ramen which satoru spiced up with some peppers, egg and a conversation which neither of you would remember in the morning to come. no amount of time seemed to have passed between you as you both laughed, bickered and exchanged glances like lovers-to-be would.

“what are you doing?,” you asked, long comfortable underneath the sheets of your bed — or you would be if satoru didn't hold them up and almost looked offended by your words.

“sleeping with you, duh,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and maybe it was.

ignoring your protests and pouts, satoru crammed himself into bed with you, one arm around your waist and the other one underneath your head. his broad chest gently pressed against your back, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.

“you're stupid,” you smiled to yourself while a blush as red as roses crept up your cheeks.

“and you're lucky i love you,” satoru grumbled underneath his breath, blowing some strands of your hair away from his nose and mouth so he wouldn't suffocate while holding you so tight.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #fic. his antithesis #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst

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oct0bra1ns · 6 months

Note

omg yandere zombie😍😍 what if a group of people find reader as their looking for supplies and takes reader to their base??

Synopsis: Nobody can rip you away from him. Pairing: Yandere Zombie x reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others, yanderes , notes: dark fantasy is a good biscuit reblogs and comments are appreciated!

It’s very rare for Yandere zombie! to even let you out of their site, the outside isn’t safe, who knows what kind of dangers are out there. You’re a human, you’ll get hurt and there’s no way they can just stitch you back up like you do for them.

But, there’s not much they can do when you run out of stitches to put their leg back together, all they can do is grunt and hope you take care of yourself.

Yandere zombie! Who spirals down with each passing hour, you never go out for this long, especially when it’s getting so dark.

Yandere zombie! Who can’t wait around any longer and decides to go search for you even if they have to limp around with half of one leg. It doesn’t take long for them to figure out that someone took you, given how the place you usually go to had your bag on the ground.

Yandere zombie! Who wastes no time in finding you, and when they see you surrounded by a bunch of idiots, all they see is red, no one and I mean no one is allowed to go near you unless they allow it.

Yandere zombie! Who rips everyone in the base apart, but makes it extremely painful for the one that took you, they deserve no mercy for laying their hands on you. For the next few weeks, they have an unlimited supply of food.

Yandere zombie! Who refuses to let you go out alone anymore, even if their leg is torn apart, you’re not allowed to go out alone, they’ll climb your back if they have to, hell, they’ll crawl if you want, but you’re never going out alone.

Yandere zombie! Who now demands you keep a ridiculous amount of threads so that you never have to deal with this situation again.

Yandere zombie! Who’ll sob and cling to you if you try to leave without them, they know very well their tears have an effect on you and they’re not above using that to their advantage.

#octo writes #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #octo answers #anon!

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 2 years

Note

Hey could I request a smut for Damon x reader? This is filth so I understand if you don’t wanna write it but my idea was that the reader is on her period and they were just changing out then suddenly Damon’s fangs come out (and like the veins and everything) and he’s like confused about where there’s blood and relises it’s you and is worried and u just get embarrassed but he said he wouldn’t want to waist such a tasty snack or sum thing like that u can change thing to make us make more sense btw I love ur writing just came across ur page and love everything!

Thank you so much, I'm glad you like my writing! It means a lot <3 And I'll write all the filth you want! Literally as I was reading this request I could already picture it so here you go! Hope you like it😊

warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), period sex, blood.

"What's that smell?" Damon asked, his eyes turning a shade of red as he stared at you, confused. "Is that blood?"

Yes, it was blood. You were on your period, but you weren't going to tell him that.

You simply shrugged, trying to play dumb as his eyes searched your body for any sign of injury. "I don't know what you're smelling but it's not me."

"Take off your pants." He ordered, catching you off guard a bit as you stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"You're bleeding." He accused, pursing his lips as he waited for you to do as he said. "Did you forget I'm a vampire?"

"Fine." You said, giving in. "I'm...on my period." That last part came out as a barely audible whisper and as you looked up at him, you felt heat creeping up your neck.

"Oh." He replied, clearly surprised.

"Oh." You repeated, nodding your head slightly, the bourbon sitting on Damon's nighstand suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the room.

You both stood there in an awkward silence for a moment before he finally said something.

"Well." He started, a small grin tugging at his lips as he stared at you, a new hunger growing inside him. "Wouldn't wanna waste such a tasty snack."

You couldn't quite believe what you were hearing. "Excuse me?"

"Come on." He whined. "I'm a vampire, what do you expect?"

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh." He nodded, a new sense of urgency in his voice now as he stared you down.

"But it's gross."

"Well I think it's sexy." He fired back, stepping towards you, the veins around his eyes protruding even more now.

"Damon, I dunno."

"Please?" He asked, pouting at you, pressing his hands together in a praying gesture.

You were still unsure, but as he advanced closer, his cool breath fanning over your lips, all reason seemed to go out the window.

His mouth closed over yours, his hands quickly threading through your hair, and you were already becoming weak in the knees. You wondered if it was like this with humans, or maybe him being a vampire had some sort of effect on you.

Either way, all doubt about his proposal had gone now, your only focus on the way his soft lips brushed against yours.

You felt him groan against your mouth then, his grip on your hair tightening. "We gotta do this now."

You quickly obliged, letting him lead you towards his bed, laying you down and wasting no time in tearing your jeans from your body, leaving you in just your panties.

"I can't wait to taste you." He breathed out, his fangs already protruding from his mouth. You could see the desperation in his eyes.

He practically ripped your panties off, not even hesitating before ducking down to put his head between your legs, the sweet smell of blood filling his nose as he breathed you in.

You shuddered when he positioned his hands around your thighs, spreading you open for him. And when he finally closed his mouth over your sensitive nub, your hips jerked off the bed, a moan falling from your lips.

You were already overly sensitive, and Damon's mouth against you was setting your skin ablaze. And all you could do was lay there, desperately fisting the sheets as he worked his mouth over you.

"Oh my god." You breathed out, your eyes squeezing shut, your release already coming close.

Damon simply hummed against your flesh, a mixture of your blood and arousal smearing over his lips. He was in total bliss as he lapped at your clit and from the loud moans falling from your throat, he could tell you were already close.

"You gonna come?" He questioned, his voice vibrating against you, sending even more pleasure coursing through your body.

"Mhm." You muttered, bringing your hands down to grip his hair, pushing him further against you as you chased your release.

Damon resumed his movements over you, swiping his tongue through your folds as he continued to lap up the blood that was still leaking out of you.

And before long, you were reaching your release, fire exploding in your belly as your orgasm crashed over you.

"Damon! Yes!" You cried out, throwing your head back into the mattress as you clung to his hair. "Oh god!"

When you finally came, Damon made sure to lap up every last drop, groaning against your soaked pussy.

"That was incredible." He grinned, still breathless as he lifted up to look at you, blood still staining his lips. "Can't wait to do that again."

[Main Masterlist] [Damon Masterlist]

#damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore blurb #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore fanfic #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #tvd #tvd smut #tvd fanfic

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skepsiss · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Eddie seeing the patches from his old vest onto a new less ruined one after I made that post about his PT—so my prompt for you is Steve helping Eddie resew his new vest (but he’s not really helping he’s just kind of there for kisses and emotional support hehe)

I took a little more into the "actually helping" realm, but it's still fluffy sweet. Other people can send me prrrommmppptts too! --

Eddie had never done something like this with someone else before. Sewing his ripped jeans, bags, and battle-vest had been a solo venture thus far, but it felt strangely intimate to be getting help with his new vest. The old one wasn't salvageable, but Eddie had managed to save some of the patches and pins to start again. This wasn't his first battle vest, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but he had hoped to hang onto his old denim. It wasn't to be though, so Eddie had thrifted a second (or third) hand denim jacket and ripped the sleeves off to start all over again.

"What's this one?" Steve asked, handing over a pin Eddie had gotten from hanging outside a metal show he couldn't get tickets for.

"Bad Brains," Eddie explained, taking the yellow button and running a thumb over the red lightning bolt that streaked across the front. "From New York, I think. I traded for it; no one really plays their stuff on the radio."

Steve nodded like he was going to retain any of that as Eddie debated over where to stick the pin. He settled on the front right pocket and then turned the vest over.

"You want to help sew the back patch?" Eddie asked, grabbing the swath of fabric he had cut from an old band-T. He hadn't been able to get the blood out of his old DIO patch, and while 'the bloody look' was cool, something about it made Eddie squirm. He didn't like that it was Steve's blood, or that the stain had made part of the album art unreadable.

So, DIO was retired, and Eddie instead centred his new Megadeth patch on the back of his vest.

Eddie handed over a needle and thread to Steve and then cut himself his own length. He strung the needle easily and tied it off before setting to work. Steve seemed to be taking his sweet time, and Eddie eventually glanced at him to see what the hold up was.

Steve was still gingerly trying to thread the needle, his brows pinched with frustration.

Eddie snorted lightly before turning the vest around so it was facing Steve.

"Here, you continue my line, and I'll finish this," Eddie teased gently, finding Steve's inability to thread a needle charming.

"Is it too late to say I've never done this before?" Steve asked, picking up the needle and thread Eddie had left behind and stabbing into the fabric.

"I can tell," Eddie chuckled, easily starting to work again. "You don't have to, you know. I don't mind just having some company."

"No, it's alright," Steve said slowly, obviously concentrating as he tried to stick the needle up through the patch. "What're boyfriend for?"

Eddie felt a syrupy smile spread across his face at Steve's words, his stomach tumbling around inside of him. He was still getting used to Steve calling them 'boyfriends' and Eddie couldn't help how giddy it made him each time. Sure, it had been nearly a month, but it still made Eddie feel like he was a blushing fifteen-year-old.

"If you insist… love," Eddie said, keeping his gaze down. He was trying out a new pet-name and he wasn't really sure if it was pushing things a bit too far. Love or My Love was such an intimate title, but Eddie had been thinking of it for a while now. He saw Steve pause at the use of the new nickname though, and waited for him to say something.

"Ow---Jesus," Steve said instead, and Eddie looked up to see him holding his hand up, a ruby-red bead of blood forming on his finger.

"Ah…" Eddie said lamely, smiling still as he reached over for Steve's hand. "Sticking yourself hurts."

"Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious," Steve bitched, letting Eddie take his hand.

"I thought you'd be a bit more durable… you know, with the whole… missing a chunk of your stomach, thing," Eddie teased gently, putting his lips to the wound on Steve's finger much the same way his mother would have when he was a child.

Steve didn't reply to Eddie's comment, instead sitting there quietly and letting Eddie suck on the tip of his finger.

"You want a band-aid?" Eddie asked, pulling back just a bit and then cheekily pressing his tongue against Steve's finger, holding it there with his mouth open.

"Yeah, a band-aid----what are you doing? Don't be weird," Steve chuckled, still not resisting Eddie's grip.

Eddie quirked a brow at him and pulled back, before huffing a laugh.

"Look who you're talking to. Weird is practically stamped on my forehead," he scolded, before licking Steve's finger again for good measure.

"Alright, alright, fair. We get it, Count Dracula, can we grab that band-aid?"

Eddie chuckled again and then scrambled to his feet, trotting off toward the bathroom, but not before turning around and sticking his fingers in front of his lips to replicate fangs.

"I vant---to suck yer ddiiiiccck," he teased, smiling wide when he got an honest belly laugh from Steve.

#my_writing #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #mini ask fics

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 months

Note

Can I suggest 4 and 47 with Howzer? Idk if you write for him but he’s a sweetheart I know. The last week everything has gone wrong….

Ohhhh sweetheart. You have no idea what you did to me. Let me tell you when I sat down and began writing... oh! It all came pouring out nearly 2000 words later, and I have a fic for you. I really hope you love it. I did.

Love oo,

The Lullaby

Warning: Death, loss (various kinds), angst, comfort, kissing, tears.

Italics - flashback

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Howzer looked at the beautiful paradise island he and the Bad Batch escaped to. Pabu. To think there was such a beautiful place in this horrible galaxy. Every time he thought he found something it had been ripped away from him. He couldn’t help but wonder if this would be any different.

He glanced down to the bracelet you weaved on his wrist. The only thing he had left of you. His fingers trailed over it again and again. He lost you on Ryloth when he stood up to the Empire. There were days when just remembering your smiling face, the way you’d call his name when you laid beside him, your soft kisses and caresses were the only thing that kept him going.

Especially when he started to lose his squad. When his men started to be taken from him too, he clung to the image of you all the more. He stood on the precipice that overlooked the island, it was majestic, a spot you would’ve loved to come to, to let the wind and sea take away your disquieting thoughts. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty sea air. If you were there, beside him, he could see himself getting used to this. He could get used to a life full of peace and quiet … but you weren’t here.

His eyes focused back down at the intricately woven bracelet you gave him, smiling as he remembered that day.

“Howzer show me your wrist” you smiled at him acting all cute and coy, your smile reaching all the way to your eyes.

“Why? What are you going to do to it?” He narrowed his eyes as he fought back a chuckle.

“Don’t be difficult and just show me your wrist.” You demanded with that smile never failing while you looked at him. It was his smile, one you reserved only for him as you stated over and over again.

“Fine, but if you do anything weird, I’m going to give you the worst tickle attack ever.” He warned as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“What weird, just hold it out” he did begrudgingly, giving you his wrist. He laughed when you pulled his wrist closer to you and turned your back so he couldn’t see what you were doing. It was a few seconds later, when you turned around smiling, “There. See. Not weird.”

He looked down at the threaded bracelet, it was the colour of his armour, the colour of your eyes, and the dark red colour of the sands of Ryloth. “It’s … it’s beautiful.”

“It’s you, me and Ryloth. The planet that brought us together,” you smiled leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, “as long as you wear it, I’ll always be with you.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around you, “Thank you. I love it, and you.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, “Thanks, cyar’ika, for making today a little less depressing.”

“Were you having a rough day?” You wrapped your arms around him tighter.

“I was, but now that you’re here, and I have you…” he waved his wrist, “I’m better. You always chase the dark thoughts away.”

“I’ll make sure to always be here to chase the dark thoughts away.”

Howzer looked at his bracelet as a tear slid down his cheek, “… but you’re not here to chase the dark thoughts away.” He spoke out loud to the images of you in his mind.

Things since Ryloth had been difficult for you, you’d suffered a serious injury. In fact, you weren’t even sure how you made it off Ryloth and found yourself travelling with Phee. It took you a while to learn how to speak again, and even to remember the name Phee had generously given you. But she was patient with you, taking you with her each and every time. Repeating what needed to be repeated as often and as slowly as possible. Protecting you, when you needed to be protected.

Even when you met the Bad Batch, she took her time introducing you to them. When had first met them they seemed somewhat familiar but it wasn’t quite right. They’re faces weren’t quite right, and you didn’t understand why.

You shrugged it off, not really worrying about it. Wrecker had been especially attentive towards you, even though you kept a friendly distance from him. Not that you found him unpleasant or unattractive, but your heart felt … occupied. It was a feeling that ... somehow you knew you were waiting for someone. Who that was, only the Force would know.

As months dragged by, and bits of your old memory came back, you had found yourself being pulled time and time again to the colour, teal blue, it struck a chord with you. Deep inside, it reminded you of something. Every time you saw it, you had to have it. Blankets, scarves, sweaters, even underwear. It was a colour that made you feel comforted, that it was somehow a part of you.

You heard from Phee more clones had joined the island, looking for a safe haven. You learned a few weeks after the Bad Batch arrived what clones were and why so many of them had the same face. Well at least a variation of the same face. You brushed off Phee’s comment, going on your usual walk when you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, you wrapped the teal blue shawl around you, revelling in its comfort and safety. Not that it was particularly cold that day, but it had been a bad day for you, so you needed that extra warmth.

The images and nightmares from the past week were overwhelming. The doctor had mentioned, it was all part of the healing process, as memories of your past continued to seep into your present, it could be overwhelming. Yet, as more images became clear, the more you didn’t want to remember. Not if it meant seeing people die, feeling a fear in your heart that you had lost someone. Someone dear.

You feared for the day you saw the image of losing the one that had somehow captured your heart, you didn’t want to remember seeing that person being taken from you. However, that might be.

You shook your head, climbing to the highest point of the island, it was the only way to calm your mind as you looked out over the whole island. Your footsteps faltered as you saw another person in your spot. You heard him talking to himself, you knew the sound of sorrow and pain, you heard it enough in your dreams. You shifted wanting to give this man privacy, only for your foot to hit a rock alerting him to your presence.

Howzer turned quickly, as years of combat trained him, he wiped the tears from his face, and looked at you. His eyes welled up with tears once again, his jaw dropped open as the blood rushed from his face.

“Cyar’ika?”

“I’m sorry?” You offered, not understanding the word that came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t realize anyone was here.” You tried to placate the man who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“It can’t be… cyare, is that … really you?” He stepped forward, wondering if you were an apparition, the way your hair billowed in the wind, the way you clung to the shawl wrapped around your shoulders, the same colour as his armour. You couldn’t be real. There was no way you could be real. He saw you … he saw you sprawled on the floor of Ryloth’s red sand, he saw the blood seeping out of your head. He remembered hearing the blaster shot and seeing you drop… it wasn’t possible.

“I … I don’t know who you think I am… but that’s not me … I’m not siare,” you tried your best to copy the pronunciation and failing, “or whatever.”

“No. It is you…” he stepped forward smiling. “Don’t you remember me?” The look on your face hadn’t moved; it was one of confusion and loss.

“I’m sorry, I …”

“Howzer. My name. I’m Captain Howzer. We … we worked together on Ryloth.” He walked closer, not wanting to scare you, taking small steps like he would with a terrified animal. Your mouth opened and closed a number of times as you tried to answer. He tried to rack his brain on something that would help jog your memory, he held up his wrist and showed the bracelet, “This. Do you remember this? You made this for me. I told you that ‘you made my day a little less depressing’.” He pleaded doing his best to try to hold back, he wanted to shake you, to wake you up, to hold you in his arms. He thought he’d lost you and … yet, you were here. You were alive.

“I … I made that?” You looked at the intricately woven bracelet. “Okay,” you huffed out a laugh, “now I know you’re lying. I’m not that talented.”

“Oh but you are cyare, you’re talented, beautiful, intelligent, brave, caring. You’re so much … you’re everything. You have to know there’s no one I could love like I love you. I …” he held back from saying more as he watched your eyes widen at his declaration, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know this is overwhelming, but … you … we. We were something special.” He swallowed softly.

You shook your head and turned away, “I’m sorry for your loss but you’re mistaken…”

“The colour!”

He cut you off, not wanting you to leave, he needed you to stay.

“What?” You turned back to him.

“The colour of your shawl, the colour of your bag, the wrap around your wrist, that teal blue colour. It means more to you than you can understand, right? You look at that colour and you feel at home, at peace. Complete.”

“How…” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How could you know that?”

“Because you told me, that’s … the colour of my armour ...” He looked down at the one he was wearing, “not this one, obviously. But the one I had back on Ryloth. The one you helped me maintain and paint. You always said this colour, the teal blue, was home for you because it reminded you of me.”

He took a step forward as a tear slid down your cheek, he took it as a sign that he was getting through. “You would have nightmares at times, and the only thing that ever calmed you down was when I held you in my arms, and sang to you. I would sing the lullaby your mother used to sing to you as a child. You taught me that on our first date…”

You shook your head, “I don’t…” your voice trailed off as Howzer started singing, his voice soft and strong, reaching into your soul. A familiarity and a comfort settling deep within you as you listened to him sing. Each word, each syllable brought back another memory. You saw the image of the two of you laughing, joking as you laid in bed. Him tickling you as you teased him. The way he held you close, when you lost another good soldier. Each note carried another memory, another reminder of the past you had lost.

Tears streamed down your face, as Howzer kept moving closer, his voice never failing as he gently reached his hand to cup your cheek and tenderly wiping the tears away. A gesture he’d done a million times before, he slowly and softly wrapped his arms around you as he kept singing. Your own arms wrapping around him, as you held him close. You closed your eyes and let the tears come.

“Howzer …” you said his name, not one with doubt, but with recognition. With remembering. With longing.

He tightened his arms around you, and kissed your temple, “Yes, cyar’ika. I’m here. I found you.” You both stood on the highest peak of Pabu, holding each other as your past finally found you again.

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Note

for the hot scenario thing… thinking about eddie cumming in you and steve eating it out before he fucks you then we he cums in you eddie cleans you up. steddie brain rot is so real

First of all, thank you! And second, you’re probably gonna get more than you bargained for with this one, lol. My brain is going to town on me, quite literally, so… I hope you like this? ;)

From the post here

Send me a hot scenario and I will rate it

Warnings: Language, NSFW, anxiety and self-esteem mentions (it’s brief), slight masturbation, Steve has a daddy kink, mirror play, squirting, handjobs, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, fluff, slow sex, rough sex, creampie, cum eating, and MORE!

~*~

You aren’t exactly sure what you did to deserve this? Maybe winning some jackpot lottery on the sexual spectrum that life offers, but you won’t complain. Not when you’ve got the two hottest guys in Hawkins—no, in the entire fucking world—at your feet, worshipping, praising, encouraging, soothing you into their sins.

~*~

Lately, you hadn’t been your boisterous self, and though you tried to hide it, your boyfriends noticed. The kind of red flag, bells tolling, alarms beeping—type of noticing.

Your calls became less audible, the desires to go out in public and have any sort of human interaction that wasn’t with your shared group of friends, becoming too non-existent for their comfort. And that’s what one of the main rules when all this started was. Comfort. Your distress was alarming, and they couldn’t stand it any longer, having sought you out. It wasn’t a simple thing, by any means, but it was a fixable situation.

You were feeling briefly lost, on the cusp of floating through the motions, unmentioned. Eddie was the first to corner you, having gotten out of band practice before Steve got off work, given the go ahead to make some headway and cheer you up. He questioned you outright, knowing that sugar coating anything isn’t the forte you abided by. You’d shrugged a shoulder, your floral pastel t-shirt blowing in the breeze of your exasperated arms, as they thumped into your lap. Your fingers had reached out to touch Eddie’s knee through ripped denim, playing aimlessly with the threads to avoid direct confrontation.

Eddie had coaxed it from you by willing his newfound patience (a trait learned from Steve), and you had admitted to being overwhelmed with the relationship. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made you feel undeserving. After all, as you had explained, how could someone like you appeal to men like them? Whilst Eddie had explained that the three of you were the most unexpectedly, oddest people in Hawkins to become linked—it worked. And why did it work, exactly?

Love. He couldn’t feel his fucking arms without seeing Harrington’s dumbass little smirk everyday, he wouldn’t be able to take in a steady breath unless your lips hit his cheek on your way out the door. Without ‘this’, as he’d motioned with ringed hands in explanation— his balance shifted. Nothing would be right if none of you were together. You had cried when he finished his statement, moisture getting caught in your lash line as he had asked, “How does all this feel for you, baby? You know we can stop if it’s not something you are really ready for.”

But you’d objected rather vocally and quickly, soothing Eddie’s erratic breathing. He understood being caught up in overwhelming moments, and the incredulous wonder of you three.

“Feels like I’m floating, or sometimes I can’t even comprehend basic, normal, everyday things, because Steve’s voice does that raspy thing when he first wakes up. Everything goes fuzzy in my head and I swear I short circuit after you come home from practice, with that smirk on your pretty mouth. And… fuck it, my chest hurts when I see you at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, attempting to keep that hair off your face as you work on campaign sheets for the kids, and Steve pulls it back for you. And I just look, I fucking see. I’m in—“

“Love?” Eddie had finished, a thumb brushing your mouth’s corner.

The veil had lifted off your mood, a phantom air so fresh and clear inside of you that you could taste and smell it. Steve had called in between customers and Eddie had pressed the receiver to your ear, watching as the insecurities poured out of your mouth, easier than the air you needed to survive. He’d kept a hand on your back, rubbing to reassure, to give you the time you need to tell Steve what you had told him, including your observations and declarations. Your shared partner was smooth and gentle, a tone reserved for you and Eddie, as he addressed the matter.

“If you both could feel how whipped I am for you, how much I love you…” Steve had cupped his hand over the phone to muffle his words from prying patron ears.

You’d blushed, squirming a little. Eddie saw, of course he did. He’d leaned by your head, cheek to cheek. “Think one of your words just lit her fuse, Harrington.”

Steve got off work pretty quickly that night. And after airing your feelings out to your boyfriends completely, Eddie wasted zero time reminding you about that word that set your inferno ablaze. Whipped.

“Sex, sex, sex. Is that all you ever think about, babygirl?” Steve had stroked your dumbfounded expression after teasing you with his words, and you—the way you encouraged them to push you further, pull you back into entanglement.

After your confession time, you were left with a need so raw and full, you’d die if it wasn’t satiated.

~*~

“Wait a second.” Eddie pauses his sturdy thrusts, his thick cock throbbing inside your overly wet pussy. You dig into his shoulders, nails scraping his slick skin, and mewl into the safe confines of his neck. “Shh, I know, sweetheart. M’ gonna move in a sec. I just want to try something.” He coos, cigarette stained breath hot on your mouth. “Harrington. I know you have a full length mirror in here somewhere.”

You can’t help the automatic reaction your body has to his words, clamping down, sucking his cock in deeper, causing it to squish against that delicate spot. Both of you groan, your legs hiking higher around his waist. “Holy Christ.” You whimper, earning a laugh from Eddie. Steve joins back in, seconds later, a long mirror in hand. He stumbles with it, earning a fond smirk from Eddie.

“And they say I’m the clumsy one.”

“Keep talking like that and see how well you can fuck our girl with your mouth full, Munson.”

Yep, that’s it.

Your head falls back onto the couch, limbs reduced to complete puddles of jello. Eddie praises your love for their filthy banter, multi-tasking Steve in helping him adjust that full length crystal by verbal instruction, until you catch a view so damned debaucherous that you’re probably going to hell when you cum. He’s still inside you, making it hard to catch your breath, a trembling vibration in your bones. “Eddie, please.”

The expanse of his semi-tall structure is on full display, those tattoos like sinful vines that you ache to climb, to taste. Licking your lips, it’s obvious to both panting men in the room that, yes, you like this. A lot.

“Oh, look at her, Harrington. She’s cock drunk and obsessed with my backside.” The metalhead spares a look through frizzy, sweat soaked curls, moaning around a mouthful of garbled words.

“Keep fucking her, Eddie.” Is a command that dips off Steve, that thick fucking cock leaking in his shiny fist.

Eddie and you watch his motions in simultaneous harmony, Eds picking speed back up his rhythm, suddenly shifting into railing you into the couch cushion—every lump and bump in worn pillowing—visible. Your lids have fluttered closed against an onslaught of distinctly, familiar pleasure. It’s happened before with a lot of grunting teamwork, often leaving you overstimulated and begging to be released and brought back into it, but this time it’s happening with only Eddie’s cock. Everyone hears it before Eddie says anything. That increasingly loud squelch that becomes a vulgar sloshing.

Eddie’s chocolate irises are gone beneath two black lakes, his mouth red and swollen from eager and sloppy kisses, courtesy of you and Steve. His hand lifts your thigh a little higher, the other motioning Steve over. “You hear that, Stevie? Our little girl is gonna squirt all over my cock.”

Steve rubs a fast palm down his dick, enjoying the aching stimulation. He tilts his head in curiosity, his hickeys visible all across his neck and collar bones. You smirk through the haze of pleasure, hand reaching out for him as he bends a little, letting you run your fingers through tufts of chest hair, amused as he adds in, “Yeah, think you can do it without either one of us touching that sweet clit, honey?”

“M’ gonna try. Eddie…?” You lift your other leg to lock them around Eddie’s back, pleading for him to go faster, but Steve is halting the motions, stepping into view and lifting your left leg onto Eddie’s shoulder, having you maneuver the other around his lower waist, moving off to the side and making sure Eddie feels every inch of his soaking cock drag across the rockstar’s backside.

With this, you can still see your reflection, but it has Eddie driving into that spongey spot at an angle so sharp, you swear you black out. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Shit, dammit. She’s squeezing my soul out, straight through my dick.” Eddie says, then whimpers and grips your jaw, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to slam himself into your cunt so hard that you feel the slip and slide of your pelvic bones, his happy trail giving your clit feather light strokes on the up. “M’ gonna cum inside her. Think I should?”

Steve doesn’t waste a second. “Soak that pussy, Eds.”

Their words bring a waterfall over your entire nervous system, a scream ripping straight through your diaphragm, and bouncing off your lungs, leaving your throat raw, and you winded. That impending climax dangling by a scrap.

“She’s getting wetter, Steve. Get the fuck over here and open your mouth. Show our girl you appreciate the show she’s getting ready to put on for us.”

Steve kneels, your leg releasing and lifting onto his shoulder, draping down that freckled back. His voice is hot and raspy, as he says, “Squirt for me, baby. Daddy needs to get wet.”

Your clit tingles with the release before your pussy feels the impact, a warmth spreading through you in a honey dripping sheath. Your muscles tighten and then relax themselves, a clear burst of your cum squirting from your cunt and around a stuttering Eddie as he fucks you through it. Steve’s pinching the meat of your inner thigh, tongue out and accepting the translucent spray, marveling in how it’s soaking his face and chin, some dripping off his chestnut tousled tresses. You can’t breath, can’t scream, you fucking cum. Eddie’s thrusts grow erratic, and you pull on his long hair, Steve slapping his ass, and he’s done for, warm spurts coating your insides in his cream.

He collapses onto your heaving bosom, panting and quivering, you struggling to take in air yourself. Steve, still hard as a rock—agonizingly so—helps Eddie slide out and off of you, kneeling completely and dragging you to the end of the couch, tongue clicking to the roof of his mouth. By this time you’ve managed to prop up a little bit, watching his back muscles move with every shift, those freckles begging to be licked. Eddie’s mirror idea may just be his best one yet.

“Oh, Harrington, you filthy slut.” Eddie knows just the direction his boyfriend is headed in, and he steadies himself beside you on the couch, palming your breasts and pinching your nipples, rings stroking back and forth to stimulate the areola.

“He’s not gonna…” You trail off.

“You made Stevie bring out the D word, Y/N. He’s going to, and we’re gonna watch him, do you understand me?”

That playful, but dominant tone has you captivated, obeying with a nod and accepting Steve’s scorching mouth. He jerks your knees apart, flattening his tongue as it licks a broad stripe up your sopping wet cunt. His mouth is drenched in yours and Eddie’s releases, Steve making sure he doesn’t waste a drop, watching you both through a very thin ring of hazel. You can’t look away from his muscular physique and every single one of those unrealistic freckles that keep you high on everything Steve Harrington. When the former prom King has managed to suck on every inch of your labia, crudely clean every cum slick crease, he lifts his head, a blob still left on his tongue.

He beckons you, Eddie pushing your sweaty back to help you meet Steve in a rough kiss, sharing that particular mixture. You run your fingers through his hair, arching as if you’re a magnet and he’s earth’s gravity personified. On a messy breakaway, saliva and remains of arousal stretch, Eddie weaving his ring covered fingers through, in awe of how it causes the jewelry to glisten. He closes his plush lips over each ring, releasing with a loud suckling pop. The three of you share a smirk, and Steve brushes his knuckles down the flushed apple of your cheek, tugging on you to help position yourself with him.

“Come here to daddy.” And he manhandles you until your ass is dangling, giving him plenty of room to grasp your ankles. Eddie, the greedy bitch that he is, reaches between your thighs and grabs Steve’s cock, slicking it up and down the seam of you. It’s got everyone in those sensual shambles.

Steve turns his head and tugs Eddie in by his throat. “Put me inside of her. Now, Munson.”

You can’t even speak human language, having given up long ago. Eddie presses Steve in, that burning stretch causing a fullness to press against your swollen walls. You hiss, toes curling, Steve’s fingers tapping across your ankle bones. “I know, baby. Daddy always splits your little cunt open, doesn’t he? Always feels like the first time, doesn’t it?”

“So fucking full.” You whisper, taking Eddie’s fingers as they’re offered, his other hand reaching to draw circles underneath the back of your knee.

“Look at us, baby. C’mon.” He demands.

Steve fucks you slow and deep, making sure you feel every ridge and curve of his cock (as if you don’t dream of being wrecked with it more than you care to admit), a slippery glide helping you find yourself matching his movements, pushing your hips into his, spreading your legs wider, letting them slide from his hold and entwining around him, thighs pressing against his tailbone. He lifts a hand beside your head, taking Eddie’s and yours in a stern grip. You’re overloaded and that coil is expanding, bursting, ready to explode and make you implode. Steve is marveling.

“That’s it. Cum for me, honey. And I’ll let you have mine.”

You fall apart, this time your vision does spot out, both of your boyfriends struggling to stay upright. Steve releases not seconds later, rowing forward and biting above your breast when he cums, layering your pussy in a sticky sheen. He doesn’t waste a moment, though, only stopping to inhale roughly a few times, pulling himself out and watching his essence and your fresh orgasm drizzle out of you. Eddie scoops down and closes his entire mouth over your cunt, devouring and sampling, nosing crudely. You let him clean you, still throbbing and recovering.

And then there is Steve, who decides he needs some more, not minding it’s his own, so he’s burying his face in between your legs again, wiggling his tongue just enough to coax more from your sore opening. Eddie cups the back of your neck as your tongue pokes out to touch Steve’s, gathering what he gives you, Eddie welcomed into the kiss next, that slurping a noisy enchantment. “Mhm, the taste of my two favorite whores.” He states, in his matter of fact way.

Yeah, you’re gonna need to hydrate and eat up tonight.

~*~

Tagging some babes: @prettyboyeddiemunson @inklore @ethereal27cereal @littledemondani @likedovesinthewnd @corrodedhawkins @thisishellfire @gothbitchshit @indouloureux @boldlyvoid @roanniom @master-of-munsons @runningmunson @munsonquinns @cowboy-kylo @pinkchubbiebunnie @pixiemunsons @munsonmunchies @manicpixiedreamcurl @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @st-eve-barnes @oliveoilthoughts @sending-love-letters @screaming-blue-bagel @spookycreepycookie-blog @gublers-ghost @munsonxdays @hellfirehope @taurusxmun @captaincarmel164 @mrsanxiiety

I tried tagging everyone on my tag list (I tagged some mutuals that aren’t on there, so I hope that’s okay?), but I couldn’t tag some of you for some reason. I’m sorry :(

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fanficfanatic000 · 2 months

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(A date?) E.M one

Nerd loser eddie x nerd loser fem reader

Trigger warning 18 + content no minors

Summary ( the fem reader works at a craft shop .seems and patches. Reader has more alt style. Reader is 21 and Eddie's 22. Eddie dropped out of high-school after almost dieing. The reader has zero friendsUntil a certain boy came into your work.)

A usual day usually consists of older women asking for floral pattern fabric And the white thread until today It was afternoon when you heard the bell on the door ring as someone with clanking chains walked in "welcome to seems and patches anything ya looking looking for?"You had to greet every customer because The job made you. He walked up to the counter. His figure was tall and leaned back Slightly his ripped dark blue jeans slightly baggy and hanging over his dirty white sneakers. His black Metallica t shirt was slighty tight clinging to his chest under a Jean jacket and a Jean vest. His doe brown eyes looking at you with his small stubble on his chin and a grin. "Uh do you guys have any sew on patches?" He raised an eyebrow"Yep our patches would be in isle 8" you smile "yeah thank you..." his hand on the back of his neck and he gulped "um can you come with me... i kinda wanted a second opinion and...." he gets flustered from your stare "n-nevermind" you smile "no problem its a pretty slow day anyways" his face immediately brightened and the red from his face drained "thanks p-pretty girl" and that caught you of guard cause no one has said that. Your face turned pink "you okay?"He looked down at your name tag "y/n?"You awkwardly nodded yes "um yeah its just no one has ever said that..."He tilted his head "?thank you?" His nose slightly scrunched "no ive never r-really been called pretty" you look down and you walk towards the isle slowly "seriously?""Yep" you say popping the p "Well i think thats probably because you make them nervous so they could never get it out.." his words have you all red and filled with butterflies he runs infront of you and held his hand out "im eddie."You put your hand in his ringed hand "hi eddie" he smiles wide and his beautiful eyes sparkle then you made it to the patches. He grabs a Metallica patch and holds it to the Jean vest. "Where would this look good?" You grabbed the patch from him and put it on the left of his chest. The air heated from noticing how close he really was. "Here would look pretty good"You hear a shaky breath exhale from eddie "Yeah" his face a pink tint as he grabbed a patch with a little coffen on it "how about this one?" You put it under the spot of the other one. The sunsetting out side "um i gotta check out now my uncle wanted me to get pizza and he's probably so Starved" he laughs slightly. As he just gave you an explanation to leave a store. "Well eddie i hope you enjoy your new patches." You say scanning them he smiles "ya know im thinking ill need more tomorrow if a certain pretty girl will be here." He leaned foreword and winked playfully. And you handed him the patches and he stepped out the clear glass door and you watch as he fist pumped in the air then basically skipped away.

look for part two with hash tag

A date em

#fandom #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson lives #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie #stranger things 4 #fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #corroded coffin #stranger things s4 #stranger things au #A date #A date em

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hazbinsillynight · 3 months

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Radiostatic week 2024

Day 4 : You almost died!

Like every extermination, the Vees were watching the sinners getting slaughtered, and it was fine. Or at least it was until Alastor got hurt badly. Oh boy, Vox wasn't having it. If someone can kill the radio demon, it would be him, not some overgrow chikenlike cocky angel!

At first, everything was alright. Alastor was simply fighting with the angels like the rest of the crew of this stupid hotel. Yes he was fighting with Adam, the leader of the exorcists but it was fine, he was the radio demon! The most powerful Overlord with him should have been okay. Until it wasn’t.

Vox looked at the TV, frozen in place when he saw the radio demon deeply cut in the chest with his micro-cane broken. His voice wasn’t even emitting radio noise anymore. Vox could feel Velvet and Valentino next to him. They were talking to him if he listened to the static noise and muffled exclamations that resonated in his ears.

Then Adam raised his guitar/ax to the radio demon and Vox saw red. With a flash of lightning, he was now in front of the angel leader, piercing his chest with his claws boosted with electricity. Before the angel could even comprehend what was going on the thunder fell on him ten times stronger than it should be. His wings were burned and he was stunned enough for Vox to take the radio demon elsewhere.

He wasn’t stupid, fighting the leader of the exorcist and protecting Alastor at the same time wasn’t something he could do. He grabbed an angelic weapon during his flee, slaughtered a few angels that were trying to prevent his escape, and zapped into the radio studio. There shouldn’t have been any screen here allowing him to zapp in but he somehow found one. It was a small and ancient TV. Eh if the situation weren’t the one they were in now he wouldn’t stop teasing Alastor about it.

The hotel was in ruins, and even the radio studio was in pieces but even if it fell off the building during the attack Vox could still use it as a hiding for both of them.

“Don’t you dare to die on me Alastor! If there is someone that can kill you here it will be me! Not some cocky and stupid angel that came out of nowhere.” The TV Overlord said before cutting the tuxedo of his nemesis to see the damage.

Alastor hasn't reacted since he came to save his ass. Perhaps he fainted, it was hard to tell since he had his eyes open and wasn’t responding to anything, even when he ripped his shirt off.

“Hey, stupid radio! Wake up dammit!” Vox screamed in one of the micros around him, hoping they would still work. Damn, this guy was so weird sometimes.

Suddenly the red demon closed his eyes before opening them again but with more difficulties this time. He looked around him only to stop his eyes on Vox, confused. The other had a needle and some translucid thread in his hands, he looked at him relieved.

“You? What are you doing here stupid TV? I thought you preferred watching us fight than move.” Alastor said with a bitter tone, trying to get up only to be stopped by Vox.

“Wow wow wow. You’re not going anywhere until I fix this nasty cut you got here.” Vox said, pointing at the chest of his rival. “Now bear it, it’ll hurt.” He added before sewing the two edges of the wound together.

Alastor stayed silent, what Vox was doing wasn’t the best but in Hell, the medical furniture wasn't especially the best. He was an Overlord, he healed fast and the thread would help to maintain the wound close the time it was needed.

“So I know this isn’t the best but the thread came from a hospital. I often have to help fix Val for his bullshit so it’s with me all the time.”

“What are you doing here Vox?” Alastor asked again, not sure of the reason the other Overlord had.

The TV Overlord kept silent, the only sound that could be heard in the studio was the static of both the TV and radio. With a heavy sigh, Vox finally started talking.

“You almost died, Alastor. Was I just supposed to watch you die on camera by a stupid angel?”

Alastor remained silent, looking at the other demon, conflicted. Vox looked miserable and he wasn’t even the one who'd been fighting. He was covered with Golden angel blood, his iconic jacket had been torn out and one of his arms was bleeding, as if someone pierced it with a spear. That probably happened.

“I suppose not…” Alastor said, his iconic voice coming back.

Vox smiled when he heard his rival speaking on the radio again. He was safe, he was okay and now he roasted this stupid angel, the princess and her father should be able to kick his ass correctly.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.”

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x vox #vox x alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #radiostatic week 2024 #tumblr fic

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queerofthedagger · 1 year

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red like rust

[Steddie | T+ | no warnings]

It doesn’t happen in the hospital. Hell, it doesn’t happen before then, because before then, Steve has Eddie’s blood all over his hands, crimson-hot and sticky, has his fingers half inside of him to keep him together, has to—

Point is, before the hospital, there isn’t any time to have a breakdown. Steve has never been much of a crier, really, dislikes the entire act of it, but that moment when he had to forcibly drag Dustin away from Eddie’s body so that Steve could save him, damn his stupid, stubborn, hero-complex-ridden nerd-self, he’d thought this time, surely, this entire nightmare of a week, well. He thought it would warrant an A-class breakdown, honestly.

He feels like one, too, like he is nothing but breakdown-to-happen. Feels like his skin is scrubbed raw and his sanity is dangling by a thread worn so thin, it’s only held together by Dustin’s red-rimmed eyes, by Lucas’ silence when they bring in Max, by Robin’s white-knuckled hand in his. In those hours that are nothing but a long, agonizing wait in the fluorescent hospital, both Max and Eddie in surgery while Hawkins’ injured and dead won’t stop coming in around them, Steve feels like crumbling marble, like he’s becoming a ruin with no one bearing witness.

At the end of the night, the kids have been picked up by their parents no matter their protests, Nancy has found a bathroom to have her breakdown in private while Robin is having hers right against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve—

Steve swears he can feel it rip the inside of his chest to shreds, but the tears won’t come, his hands won’t shake, and he wonders how long you can go on like this before it mutilates something irreparable inside of you. --- It doesn’t happen after that either. Not when they stitch his sides back together, and not when the doctors tell them that both Eddie and Max will live, the relief of it almost bringing him to his knees.

It doesn’t happen when he sees Eddie for the first time, skin pallid and stitches angry-red on his face and throat. When Eddie’s hands shake, fingers unsteady against Steve’s wrist as he says, “I didn’t think I’d make it.”

Not when Steve hisses, more venom in his voice than in years, “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t play the fucking hero.”

His teeth rattle with the fury of it, and he’s shaking, too, everything in him itching to shatter into a hundred pieces, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

Eddie merely keeps looking at him, wide brown eyes and matted hair, and he doesn’t apologize, but then, Steve doesn’t think that he could take it. That it wouldn’t be what will make him get into his car and drive until he forgets about Hawkins and dying kids and boys with lie-soaked tongues and hearts of gold. ---

If he hoped it would get better once the shock wears off, this would be a let-down, but really, Steve’s been at this a little too long to still be disappointed in his various shortcomings; this might as well just join the parade.

Emotionally constipated, as Nancy would say. Your bastard of a father to blame, Robin would mutter, fire in her eyes whenever the topic comes up—more so, recently, since his parents came back in the wake of the supposed earthquake.

Which is an entire thing Steve doesn’t touch. Generally speaking, he’s not unhappy to see his mom, but currently, it’s one of the last things he needs.

He still cannot get the tears past his throat, cannot let go of the fear and the anger and the grief—so much godforsaken, blood-soaked grief—that draws tighter around his chest with each passing day.

He wakes from nightmares more often than not, of course, heaving and sweat-soaked and shaking. He jumps at the noises from other people sharing the house with him, flinches away from his window because they always turn on the lights of the pool, and almost bites through his tongue when, for the hundredth time, they try to convince him to move to LA with them.

He meets his father’s judgmental eyes blankly and brushes his mother’s concerns off, and he feels closer to splintering apart with each passing day, and still.

And still, nothing ever fucking gives. --- He tries not to think about it, and the vise only draws tighter. The more he thinks about it, the farther away he feels from being capable of anything but tearing something outside of him apart.

It is lucky, perhaps, that his friends are too stubborn to let him get away with his shit. Robin gives back tenfold whenever he snaps at her, and the kids have stopped taking him seriously years ago. Nancy has to do little more than raise a brow for him to get a grip.

Eddie’s the wild card, and the circularity of that makes Steve clench his hands until his nails draw blood.

The pain’s still not enough. Maybe that’s the goddamn issue, he thinks some nights, staring up at his ceiling with his heart a war drum inside his chest. Perhaps he’s so fucked up, emotionally constipated, whatever the fuck everyone’s theory is, that even Eddie jumping off Death’s scythe just so, that even Max, weeks later, still lying in the hospital, isn’t enough to get to him. --- If he’s honest, he knows it’s not that. He doesn’t know what it is, sure, but he knows that he loves them all so much that it makes his bones shake with the ruby-coloured terror of it.

It’s okay, though, it’s all worth it, even as the days march on and he feels stretched thin and raw and like it’ll take little to make him crumble for good.

It’s okay, through movie nights and drives to the arcade, through DnD sessions he only watches and volunteering with Robin. Through late nights with Eddie on the roof of the Beemer, and through calls that last until the sun climbs into the sky, dawn red-pink and mocking.

It’s all okay, good even, all the old-familiar and the new. The way he sometimes looks at Eddie and aches with want, these days, the pain and the rage almost buried beneath it. Almost, almost, almost. --- It happens, as these things are wont to do, when Steve least expects it.

It’s a tepid June day and they’re down at the quarry, just the two of them—Steve and Eddie, Eddie and Steve, the way their names are constantly mashed together these days a running joke amongst everyone.

They’re not even doing anything, just smoking and wandering around, when the sky opens up above them, the downpour so sudden and harsh that they’re soaked within seconds.

After prolonged moments of simply staring at each other in disbelief, Steve starts laughing—helpless, really, there is no way that he can’t. Eddie looks like a drowned poodle, the joint in his hand sagging, wet, and sad, and after everything, it just feels absurd.

Eddie shoves him and Steve shoves back, and then they’re running, both laughing and stumbling every other step.

“Fuck,” Steve gets out, empathetic and out of breath as he collapses against the side of the van. The rain’s already letting up again, and he looks at Eddie, smiling wide and bright-eyed, just a few steps away from him. “Fuck, I’m so glad you’re still alive.��

It’s such a stupid thing to say. But it tastes like a confession, like something sacrosanct. It tastes a lot like forgiveness, is the thing, and Eddie stills as if he understands it, too.

Around them, the rain slows down to a drizzle, and everything smells like early summer and second chances.

“Jesus, I hope you’ll still think that in a second,” Eddie mutters, and it doesn’t make sense, not an ounce, until he crosses the three feet between them, cups Steve’s face between his hands, and presses their mouths together.

It’s hot, slick with rain and a little clumsy, their noses bumping and Eddie’s rings catching in his hair. It’s also everything Steve has wanted for weeks now, and he pulls Eddie closer, fingers clenching into skin and bone where the bats had almost taken him.

Perhaps it’s that. Perhaps it’s the little noise Eddie makes, as if, despite being the one to finally take the plunge, he is still surprised that this is happening. Or, perhaps, Eddie just has that effect on Steve.

When Steve finally breaks, it is with Eddie Munson kissing him for the first time.

The tears mix hot with the remaining drizzle, and it’s so unexpected that the shock briefly outshines the grief. He staggers, a sob clawing its way out of his throat, and he wants to shove it back down, wants to keep kissing Eddie, clichéd and perfect in the summer rain.

“You’re such a bastard,” he chokes instead, and when Eddie pulls back, eyes wide, Steve sees just enough through the tears to make out the shock on his face, the fear working its way in. “Not about that, you—Jesus.”

He doesn’t get any more words out after that, throat constricting and everything shaking, shaking, shaking. He gets his point across by digging his fingers into Eddie’s hips, refusing to let go when he’s still half the reason this is even happening in the first place. By pressing his forehead to Eddie’s collarbone, and he hates crying, always has, but sheltered between Eddie’s van and Eddie’s body, it’s maybe as alright as it can get.

Eventually, Eddie seems to get the message or at least some part of it. He hums softly, and tugs and pushes at Steve until his face is in the crook of Eddie’s neck, Eddie’s arms around him, and it all just comes out in one inevitable, disastrous wave of pent-up grief.

Steve cries and cries and cries, for the kids and for himself, for Robin and Nancy and Eddie, and for the absolute abundance of shit they all had to go through. For all the futures they won’t have, and how when he closes his eyes, all he ever sees these days is red.

“Because you’re weird and I’m weird, I’m going to assume that you are weeping in awe of my kissing skills,” Eddie says, minutes or hours later when Steve can somewhat breathe again. “As such, I’m taking this as a declaration that you’re just as stupidly in love with me as I am with you.”

Steve laughs, and then he’s crying again, and Eddie presses his smile against his temple as if it is the easiest thing in the world.

So, thirteen weeks after they killed Vecna for the final time, Steve finally breaks.

That’s okay, though, because apparently, Eddie’s ready to pick up the pieces, too. Because somehow, Steve’s ready to let him.

#st #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #mona's writing #honestly this is 1k longer than 'just something quick to finally break the goddamn writer's block' was supposed to be #but at this point i'd have taken anything so really I'm not complaining

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och405o · 11 months

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Hey lol, can i request an &team reaction to their sunbae idol s/o (who's the leader dancer and rapper and is also from hybe) mentioning them on a show or in a live and saying that they love their content/music and that their rlly handsome(like cmon their gorgeous) and they like find out from fans and fanboy over them and they didn't know that they were watching the live...and ima stop there cuz it's so long srry (i'm the same anon who asked u just now btw even tho it's lowkey obvious)

Anyway hope ur doing great and hope this helped ur writing block. Luv uuu<33

&Team reaction to idol s/o mentioning them on live

Andy’s notes: Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting!! I hope you enjoy this 🫶🫶

Summary: While live a fan asked your opinion on the group &team, giving you the opportunity to talk about your perfect boyfriend

K had opened Twitter to be met with hundreds of tweets from Lune and your fandom. Obviously the first emotion he felt was confusion and a little panic. He scrolled through the thread and saw the clip from your groups live.

“Oh someone asked if I like &Team. Of course I do! I think my bias is definitely K. He is so handsome and talented, how can someone not like him”

K smiled at the clips, watching it over and over again. I think K would tease you a little about it but would be really happy that you love him so much.

Fuma:

He would be doing a birthday live (Happy belated Fuma day) when people started commenting about your live. He would be confused but as people began to explain it he would understand. He would worry a little about rumors but I think he would be one to reveal it himself with the help of the company before any scandals or rumors started to spread

Nicholas:

(This little shit) He would definitely tease you when he saw all the ships and fan edits of the two of you.

“Awe daring look at this clip you are practically drooling over me.” He would say while siting with you in a practice room. He would absolutely love seeing you talk about him with so much love.

Ej:

I think his first reaction would be to panic. He knows it’s not always a good think when you are trending on Twitter. He would be worried about scandals and rumors, knowing that could affect your careers. I think he try to distance himself from you in front of camera to avoid them. But don’t worry he definitely shows his live when you guys are alone.

Yuma:

He would be watching your live with some of the other guys when your fans started asking for your opinion on their new comeback. Obviously you were excited to talk about it and your amazing boyfriend.

“Oh it was so good they all looked great especially Yuma. He definitely shined in this comeback. I was thinking about learning the choreography for it, what do you guys think?”

Yuma would love it. I think he would get a little shy but overall he would think it was really sweet and definitely would be a little more clingy with you to show his appreciation.

Jo:

Jo was a hard one for me. He would be awkward (plz save him he doesn’t know what to do) people had already started to ship the two of you and Jo was a little worried. He was conflicted. Like obviously he loves you but he doesn’t want to affect your career. He wouldn’t worry as much as Ej but would definitely want to be careful from now on.

Harua:

He would think you are the cutest person to every walk the Earth. He absolutely loved the way your eyes lit up as you gushed about him and the way your cheeks turn a soft shade of red when you realized you talked too long. He would save the video in his phone and watch it at least 5 times a day.

Taki:

Taki would talk about you a lot especially with Niki (Rip Niki) when this happened. Oh boy Niki was ready to rip his own ears off. Taki would not stop bragging about you. He loved that you were so proud of him and that you loved him so much.

Maki:

Maki would feel a huge confidence boost. He wants you to be proud of him and wants to impress you. He is still super young so I think he would be a little awkward about and might even tease you or pretend like it doesn’t affect him when deep down he is so so in love with you

#&team #&team reactions #&team x reader #&team drabbles #&team fuma #&team k #&team nicholas #&team maki #&team yuma #&team jo #&team harua #&team taki #&team ej #&team fluff

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