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f1nalboys · 9 months

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Bug Like An Angel - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair

heyyyy guys :3 if i saw me post this yesterday no u did not <3 i got embarrassed bc it’s my first time writing in a while so it feels bad but i’m posting it again and going to nap for the fifth time today so?? enjoy hopefully? lmk what y’all think!! ALSO sorry i am posting this on my phone so formatting might be fucked up and i apologize hehe

WORD COUNT: 1172

WARNINGS: younger bo, no romantic subplot. angst, comparing bo to his mom, bug mention, bug death mention, bo is a complicated guy. alcohol mention, religious undertones and overtones, swearing, brief mention of a victim, barely any proofreading

A small bug drowned to death in Bo’s mostly-empty glass early this afternoon while he sat on the porch swing, the brim of his hat low over his eyes to shield them from the sun. The Louisiana heat mixed well with his liquor, settling warm in his stomach and rocking him to sleep like a mother would her child.

As the sun sets his eyes open, the hat moves from his head to clear his vision. Bo’s heart was thumping in his chest, crashing against his ribs like a wild animal in a cage. His dream of angels falling to earth, humans stumbling across Ambrose, sinners and saints alike lessen the longer he’s awake. Sin follows the righteous like a heavy cloud, thick with want and desire. The chosen few always out run it but Bo has never been a runner and he’s never been one to turn down a sin or two.

Bo breathes in slowly, taking in his surroundings. He’s home, like always. He’s alone, like always. He briefly thinks of the poor girl stuck in the basement right now; Vincent had surely begun his craft and Bo swallows back the annoyance at not having been able to play with her longer. She had been funny, the way she spit and screamed at him until she saw the chair. Bo liked timing them in his head to see how long it took for them to start to beg.

It’s something his mother used to do to him. He can still hear her shrill voice if he focuses hard enough; “Four minutes before you finally apologized. Well, that just won’t stand.” His wrists itch but when he looks down they’re just scars. There’s no blood despite the feeling of it warm on his skin, the blood of a lamb on untouched fur.

His eyes turn over to the railing of the deck and he spots his glass. His tongue burns for another taste and he grabs it, looking down and frowning as he registers the bug that laid flat in the middle of the remnants of his drink. “Damn…” he mutters, eyebrows furrowing together. “Poor bastard needed a drink more than me.”

Snorting at his own joke, Bo goes to empty the glass over the side of the railing. He hesitates for a moment as he watches the bug slide from the center of the glass to the edge, the small drop of scotch submerging it. There’s a small pang of sorrow deep inside Bo’s chest that lights up, just a spark, at the sight. “Poor thing.” He says, dumping the bug out onto the wooden railing.

The remaining scotch soaks into the wood, a small ring like shape, the bug in the center. It reminds Bo of one of the angels he used to stare at when his momma forced him to church. He swallows thickly, thinking of the countless hours he’d spend in those small pews tucked in between his parents, a hand on each of his wrists, digging into the still raw flesh with each offense. He remembers how his gaze bore into the angel to the left of Jesus, how he got some sort of solace from it in those moments.

When he revisited his mommas funeral and couldn’t bear to look at her, his eyes always found it’s own.

Sighing, Bo places the thick glass onto the railing beside the bug. Bo wasn’t sure what kind of bug it was, just that it had a hard brown shell and six arms and that it looked pathetic like that on it’s back, limbs limp. He pokes at the small insect, just to make sure, before he carefully rolls it over. “There ya go, buddy,” he murmurs with a smile. “Now let’s get you where you belong.”

With more grace than he’s ever given anyone, Bo gently picks the bug up in between his thumb and pointer, placing it onto the middle of his palm as he walks down his front porch steps, taking a left to turn down the side of the house. There was a small patch of dandelions growing here and Bo bends down in front of a patch of them.

“Hmm, where do you wanna be…” Bo questions quietly, before letting out a small satisfied hum. With his free hand he digs a small hole in between two flowers, just an inch or two, before carefully placing the bug in the makeshift grave. He closes his eyes and mutters a prayer to himself, one he had been muttering over his mothers body for the last three years. When he finishes he sighs, opening his eyes and giving a sad smile towards the small bug in the big grave.

Bo carefully brushes dirt over the bug, tapping the dirt over top and placing a small golden leaf on top like a blanket. Like a mother to her child. “Bo?” He jumps, nearly falling flat onto his ass as he attempts to stand, hand reaching for his back pocket where his knife stayed. Lester gives a toothy smile and Bo rolls his eyes, wiping his hands onto his jeans.

“Whadya want, Les?” He asks, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“Hadn’t seen ya since lunch, wanted to check up on ‘ya and make sure you were ok.” Lester steps to the side to allow Bo to pass him before quickly falling in line, walking quickly to keep up with his brother's large strides. “What were you doin’?”

Bo shakes his head, boots hitting the safety of the porch steps. “Nothin’, don’t fuckin’ worry about it.”

“Were you buryin’ another bug?” Lester can see Bo stiffen as his hand reaches for the front door's handle and grins, trying to stifle his laughter. “S’alright, Bo. We all’s gotta soft spot for animals. Course, most folks prefer dogs to creepy crawlies.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re on about.” Bo snaps, holding the door open for his younger brother to slink inside past him. He sticks his foot out and laughs loudly when Lester trips, louder than he used to be allowed to, and he slams the front door shut like his mother. “Go put a pizza or somethin’ in the oven for us, I’ll grab beers. Oh, and tell Vinny to leave the bitch and come up to get something to eat, too, wouldja?”

Lester shakes his head. “You sound like momma.” He mutters under his breath, ducking to avoid Bo swatting at him. Like mother, like son. “Dibs on pickin’ the movie, then!”

Bo’s mouth opens to deny the dibs due to being the oldest but Lester is gone, turning into the room that leads to the basement and Bo shakes his head instead. He thinks of the poor little bug buried in between those two wilting flowers all alone and briefly wonders what would’ve happened to it had it not died tonight the way it did, if it had been given another chance.

It reminds him of something but he can’t quite think of what that is.

#f1nalboys works #f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax fic #angst fic #idk man

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soulwillower · 4 years

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buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier has adhd #losers x reader #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #mike hanlon x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh x reader #losers club x reader

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izukult · 3 years

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This is such a cute idea! I’m addicted to making weirdly specific Spotify playlists so this is perfect. I have an ✨eclectic✨ music taste but my favorites are usually bedroom pop (mxmtoon, chloe moriondo, khai dreams, etc), romantic classical (think Debussy and Revel), and indie (although I like some Megan Thee Stallion, AC/DC, Nirvana, etc when I’m hyping myself up). As far as my personality goes, I’m pretty insightful and like to support people whenever I can, even if I don’t know them well. I can be a little chaotic sometimes, but I like to think it’s a chaotic good. I love tea, blankets, philosophy, deep conversations, the outdoors, and writing. I’m also an INFP and a Taurus :)

Sorry if that was too much, thank you so much! Take care of yourself and stay well

- Elle ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

( @snoozless ) you don’t understand how bad i want to be your friend. 😐😐 ok so you kind of get bonus 😀 but it rly might not be bonus because akfjakdkw. so, i gave you matsukawa!! but he’s not always like revered about so if u want a character lmk!! i am. in love w him tho. you’re so sweet you would balance him out and yall would be equally chaotic together.

he would have philosophical questions w u!! he might just be a little blunt & might accidentally cut the convo short, but he would listen to everything you said.

he’s used to a wide variety of music bc i’m convinced the seijoh playlists are absolutely fucking cracked like so loud. so he really could sit there and listen to anything. and i mean ANYTHING. like if you wanted to put on christian rock he’d awkwardly try to tap his foot on beat for you.

but, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna geek over you i feel like he’d be pretty private about the relationship. he’s not like secretive but he’s not gonna post you every two seconds yknow? he wouldnt put prom photos, but if yall went to look at the stars or go on a little hike he’d take a pic and youre wearing baggy sweats and one of his shirts and your hair isnt brushed for shit and it’s way too dark to properly make your face out and he’d put that shit on his main absolutely 😒

this man would be the kind of mf to look up his “crush’s” zodiac just for shits & giggles, so if he randomly knows a taurus fact, don’t question it<3 (he looked up your compatibility and he will take that to the grave)

issei is an infp idc. so yall got that in common.

he’s genuinely so pretty.

bc i took so long, i’m going to put descriptions for all the songs i love you thanks for requesting sorry for taking forever i’ll link the playlist and list the songs<3

1. silly girl- chloe moriondo

okay while this song is actually kinda sad, i think tHIS is pretty cute. issei comes off as this intimidating guy, and the more you get to know him the more you forget ab this idea of him you had or whatever? like the lyrics “i made him perfect, cause i wanted him to be” are really prominent in the point i’m tryna make because like even tho the lyric is obviously sad bitch shit, music is up for interpretation and this is like “hello ok he actually a real mf and shiiit maybe he cool😁✊”

2. nice boys- TEMPOREX

kinda sad. i don’t care how unemotional he might act, everyone has shit that brings them down. PLUS HES A PISCES THERES NO WAY HES NOT SAD SOMETIMES. this song just really taps into insecurities for him, and the song just gets under his skin in like a very therapeutic way. also “because he’s a pisces” some of his emotions are super intense so the “because he cares too much” line hits him fuckin hard

3. IV. sweatpants- childish gambino

this is some shit he listens to more with his team, absolutely. no doubt they blare this shit during weekly practice. but, he really really likes the song. so, when you’re hanging out and he has the aux? it’s one of the first ones he puts on. you two jam to it together. he’ll come up w dumb little dances to fit with certain lyrics (stole some of them from oikawa and hanamaki, but he won’t tell you)

4. you get me so high- the neighbourhood

okay unfortunately i must say him and hanamaki get fuckin faded in empty fields at two am all trashy like. but they make it look good idc. and if you smoke, cool, if you don’t he does not care. he always associated getting high with,,, getting high and everytime he listened to this song it just was one of his getting blazed jams, but now he’s got like a different kinda “euphoric” feel with loving you? like i said this bitch is a pisces even if he doesn’t overwhelm you with affection, he thinks ab you 24/7

5. 80’s makeout session- dacelynn

thIS SONG IS SO CUTE. but it’s p self explanatory. in love and also spare a kiss pls

6. can i call you tonight- dayglow

i feel like actually coming to terms with genuine feelings for someone would be kind of weird for issei. like no offense, but he sees it as kind of a pain in the ass. i genuinely think he would be someone to put his all into work or a task in front of him. he’s super intuitive, and constantly uses it to be better. whether it’s in volleyball or like cremating ppl i guess (HE WORKS INA FUNERAL HOME POST TIME SKIP IF U DIDNT KNOW). and it’s the same in relationships, but it’s also harder because he can’t have this complete clear head because you make his brain go kinda fuzzy. so, this song is like his little way of expressing that even tho he was like ‘internally conflicted’ this mf chose to go for it and that’s how much u mean to him

7. clair de lune, L. 32- claude debussy

i’m gonna be fucking honest with you. even though he’ll listen to anything, i really don’t think this man is looking up ‘classical romance study tunes’ playlists in his free time. he definitely enjoys the music, but that’s only if someone points it out to him. and he’s listened to you talk about it before, and watched you as you heard the piano and gauged your reactions and thought u were pretty cute he’s not gonna lie😼. so he definitely just looked up classical romance and picked the first recommended song and added it on there. he’ll dance w you a lil bit, but it wouldn’t be that quiet, intimate slow dancing in the dark you think would come w this song. itd just be a little sway as he hugs you from behind while you get water, or he twirls you once randomly with a laugh UGH I LOVE HIM

8. like real people do- hozier

ok. this one was fun for me. idc. double meaning lol. so this song is literally about two dead bodies in a bog and ,,, and he works in a funeral home PLS LMAOFJAJDJA I THINK THATS SO FUCKING FUNNY AND SO DOES HE. but also this song literally is my idea of love. this is my idea of love. and yall listen to it, with your stupid little death joke, but he looks at you and he’s just like ‘oh’. yknow? YKNOW?

9. BS- still woozy

like i said, i think he puts a lot into work. and he literally plays for a powerhouse school there’s no way he doesn’t practice a lot. so that means there’s a lot of time where he’s physically not there and definitely can’t text, because he’s trying to improve. and while he wouldn’t stop volleyball for someone else, he understands that you are like super amazing for being so Cool with him not being the most available. the song just reminds him of how compassionate you are and also he does miss u when he’s at practice YKNOW?

10. i <3 u- boy pablo

this one made me so fucking soft ew. ok. this song reminds him of you so so much. he’s totally okay being vulnerable with you? and even though he has pretty heightened emotions, he’s never felt like so strongly for smth other than like ??? volleyball and caring ab his siblings (BUT HE FEELS DIFFERENT FOR U THAN HE DOES FOR A VOLLEYBALL AND HIS SIBLINGS PLEASE😁). HE LUVVVVV YOU

11. heart-shaped box- nirvana

so many reasons. for one, simply fucking JAM. yall would scream this on a drive. if you ever got drunk together, this would be the first song you play. also, little lyrics remind you of each other. (the pisces lyric in the first and third verse, and even tho the flowers aren’t being used in a sweet sense in the song he does remember talking ab flowers w u, and now any flower is mentioned and he’s like “ah yes. my girlfriend.”)

12. pluto projector- rex orange county

FUCK. FUCK THIS SONG. GOD. NO. LIKE HE REALIZES HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU WITH THIS SONG. HE T E L L S YOU HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU WITH THIS SONG. the first time, he just sends you the name of it like ‘pluto projector <3’ and you listen and it’s so sweet and ur like ayo turn this shit up. and he adds it to your playlist, which definitely gets a smile from you. and then one night like two weeks later youre just laying together, and he’s running his fingers through his hair and he pulls away for a second to grab his phone and he turns the song on and you just listen to it in silence and it’s so fucking intimate. and he’s just like “i don’t think i’ve ever related to a song more” and you think he’s making a joke so you tell him to shut up (also jokingly) and he just laughs and it’s dark in his room and he’s playing with your hair again and he just goes “god, if you’re telling me to shut up over that i don’t even want to imagine how you’re gonna react when i tell you i love you” and it’s right around 3:10 in the song i’m literally so gone for him. bye you cry and try to hide it but he can tell HES PERCEPTIVE

13. i wanna be yours- arctic monkeys

okay for one, it’s a good song. it’s a song he absolutely let’s play in the background, just to cover the static lol. but also? ALSO? THE TITLE APPLIES TO YOU THE FUCK? it’s as if,,, he’s whipped,,

14. supermassive black hole- muse

hanamaki prolly showed him this song, and it’s one of his vibe songs. he will do falsetto while singing it if he’s in a really good mood and it just makes everyone laugh, including himself. it actually kind of grosses him out, because this song used to literally just be a song he would aimlessly go hard to but NOW his little bitch ass is like “you set my soul alight”? i guess i relate and “oh baby, i’m a fool for you” well, surely i’m not a fool but yea i get you muse sing it. it’s so gross. at this point he wants one thing that doesn’t make him think of you, just to prove that he’s not that gone, but he struggling

15. desperado- rhianna

i’m sorry to say it but this song makes him feel like a bad bitch LMAOOOOO. like if he’s ever getting pregame jitters or anything, he will just play this song. whether it’s on the speaker or in his headphones, he puts this shit on full volume and gets a lil too cocky LOL. this is also on the main seijoh playlist no doubt. he wants to share his bad bitch song w you, so you can aLSO feel like a bad bitch?? dUH

IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT BABES! IF YOU WANT ANY OF THE SONGS CHANGED (or even the character) LMK!! UR AMAZING ur so sweet it makes me ill

#haikyuu #haikyuu playlists #ikigaitooru playlists #matsukawa issei #mastukawa x reader #matsukawa playlist #haikyuu x reader

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lomlwintersoldier · 5 years

Text

You Know Me {Part 3: Training}

Previous parts: | Part 1 | Part 2 |

Word Count: 1642

Warnings: sparring violence

A/N: Another part!! i was literally up until six writing the last couple parts, plus a possible smut drabble? Would you guys want that? lmk plsss

The next morning you’re up before the sun is. It’s still pitch black when you open your eyes and as soon as you do, a wave of fear washes over you at the thought of actually going on a mission to finally take down H.Y.D.R.A. You’re glad Sam ordered training sessions first.

H.Y.D.R.A. had been a creeping, insidious fear your whole life and a part of you was greatly overwhelmed by the fact that you were now so close to finally having a life free of them. Still, another, saner part of you, the one that had been trained by Natasha was calm, ready. You knew that this was the only way you could be free.

You’re about to head down to the training area in the clothes you’d brought with you but you saw that someone had left neatly folded athletic training gear for you. You pull them on, the tight black material adhering perfectly to your skin.

When you reach the gym, you see there’s only one other person there yet, sitting on the benches against the farthest wall. Bucky.

Swallowing your fear, you walk inside and head to the benches on the left, giving him a polite nod, which he returns with a purse of his lips. The two of you sit in uncomfortable silence as you wait for the other Avengers to show up. The clock ticks, the minutes going by until finally, he opens his mouth.

“They’re always late.” He mutters. It’s so quiet you almost don’t think he’s speaking to you, but his eyes flick to yours quickly, anxiously waiting for your response.

You let out a small relieved laugh, grateful that he’d said the first words.

“Are they?” You murmur as you lean back against the wall, your eyes meeting his again and he laughs once, running his right hand through his long, dark locks.

“Oh always. Can’t get a single one of ‘em out of bed. It’s a different era.” Bucky laughs quickly and your heart pangs for him. You knew what had happened to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and with Bucky essentially being Steve’s right arm….well it was probably hard for him to adjust.

“I-,” you start but the loud bang of the door swinging open interrupts you.

“Gooooood morning,” Scott mutters, yawning as he heads to the lockers. “You guys are up early.”

Bucky gives you an amused look, rolling his eyes at you and smiling as if the two of you now share a private joke. Your cheeks suddenly feel hot as you smile back at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

They all begin to trickle in slowly, exchanging tired good mornings and stifled yawns as they talk amongst themselves. The only ones missing were Bruce and Rhodey. When everyone has arrived, Sam speaks up, striding to the middle of the wrestling mat.

“Alright, guys. Pair up, you know the drill. Whoever pins the other down first wins.”

You look around the room, seeing your candidates. Sam pairs with Bucky, Scott with Peter, and Clint with Wanda, leaving Valkyrie for you to spar.

She smirks at you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You crouch in your defensive stance, your eyes scanning her every movement as she mirrors your movements, ready to attack.

You decide to take the offensive and aim a right hook at her face which she evades, her fist coming back up to plant a blow to your stomach, but you block it. Not easily outdone, she slams her knee into your chest, causing a grunt of pain to escape your lips but you quickly recover, grabbing her arm to hoist yourself up onto her shoulders. Gripping her neck between your thighs, you slam her body down with your own weight, forcing her on one knee. A trick you’d learned from Natasha. You kick her other leg from behind, forcing her completely to the floor as you grip her arms behind her back, slowly pushing it further and further as she struggles against you.

Your hands are dangerously close to dislocating Valkyries shoulder but you continue to hold her down until her hand finally comes up to your arm, tapping you twice in defeat.

It takes you a moment to realize that the entire room has gone quiet and all eyes have turned to you and your fight with Valkyrie. Shocked faces look at you incredulously and you let Valkyrie go, standing as she rolls on her back.

You offer a hand, which she takes and you pull her up on her feet.

“Shit, girl.” Rhodey laughs in shock. “I’ve never seen anyone take Val out that easy.”

“That was good.” Valkyrie reaches her hand out for you to shake.

“You put up a good fight,” you tease. She playfully smacks you.

Peter takes you on next and you pin him down faster than you did Valkyrie, much to his dismay.

“I didn’t wanna hit a girl,” he exclaims as you release him, earning the laughter of everyone else.

Next was Scott, who was another easy take down, then Clint, who put up more of a fight and it took you much longer, with more injuries than the other three opponents you’d sparred. Your fighting style was so similar to Natasha’s that he seemed to be able to anticipate every one of your moves before you made them, much to your frustration, but you quickly gained the upper hand when you pull a few moves that Natasha hadn’t taught you. It ends with him on his back and your arm pressed against his throat. It was honestly the most fun you’d had in a long time.

“Alright, alright, I wanna fight you myself,” Sam announces. “Maybe I could take you down.”

“Oh, I hope you try,” you quip back, feeling a little more comfortable around them already as you trash talk each other.

Just then, a message from F.R.I.D.A.Y. blares through the hidden speakers, breaking everyone’s attention.

“King T’Challa has arrived and is requesting a meeting with Mr. Wilson. He says it is urgent,” her robotic voice says.

Sam’s jaw sets and he replies. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be there in five.”

The rest of the Avengers leave but Sam stops you and Bucky, pulling the two of you to the side.

“If this message is what I think it is, we’ll leave tonight. Dom, I think we know you can hold your own in a fight now so I trust you on this mission,” he says earnestly.

You and Bucky nod; Sam turns on his heel and leaves out the door, leaving you and Bucky alone.

You turn to him, looking up at his face. He was so much taller than you were now that you were standing so close, his muscular hulking figure just a few feet away. A few moments of silence pass between the two of you before he breaks it. Again.

“I guess we’ll spar next time then,” he says in a husky voice. You pause a moment before replying, enjoying his presence. He felt like a breath of fresh air to you in a strange way, someone so torn that his entire demeanor felt chaotic, confused. It felt familiar. Like you weren’t so alone in the world anymore.

“Looking forward to it, Bucky.” His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you turn away from him, breaking the tension between the two of you and as you start down the hall, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, all of the Avengers, save for Sam, are sitting in one of the many living rooms, drinking and talking and laughing together as you unwind from the day.

“You know, I really don’t think I did that bad against Dom,” Peter states, earning loud laughter from everyone in the room.

“Dude, if anyone knew what happened in the training room today, your career would be over, spiderman.” Scott teases, earning another round of laughs.

You smile, looking around the room. You’d been so afraid on the plane ride here but now they treated you like you belonged here; it was as though you’d proven yourself today.

Just then, Sam comes in, beckoning you and Bucky into the hallway, away from everyone else. You and Bucky glance at each other before you rise simultaneously, meeting Sam down the more private hall. He hands the both of you identical manila folders and you quickly open it. Photographs of past H.Y.D.R.A. agents are tucked in between neat but long profiles on each of them. You flip through the pages, scanning the information, before closing the folder and turning back to look to Sam. “These are agents we haven’t been able to find but have heard their names through coded messages. We plan on finding them in the next few days,” Sam states determinedly.

“We head out tonight. The quinjet will be ready soon.”

“Where are we headed?” Bucky asks gruffly as he continues to read through the folders. “Barcelona. There’s been some noise about possible H.Y.D.R.A. conspirators convening in that city. I’m willing to bet that at least a few of those people are these guys,” Sam replies, gesturing towards the folders. “I think it’s worth checking out.”

“I agree.” Bucky closes the folder and tucks it in between his arm and rib cage.

“Dom, we had a uniform sent over for you. Don’t worry, you’ll get a new personalized one soon, but this was all we could do on short notice.” Sam hands you a bundle of clothes, and you run your hands over the soft but sturdy material. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” You say gratefully. “Suit up. We head out in fifteen minutes.”

Part 4

Masterlist

Tags: @xxchexchickxx @killpop-writes @melconnor2007 @psychicwitchphilosopher @frolicsomefawkes @the-witching-hours12-3 @bubblegumuntsr @badassbaker @trashsnitches @barnes-toddpartnersinheartbreak @thickthighedqueen @megandrawsspace @rda1989@ailynalonso15 @cupcaitlyn96 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @thefridgeismybestie @elleatrixlestrange @browncoatforever@elitafuckingone @siobhanrebecca @ my-girl-is-the-best@dugan365

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